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Hunt 



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Blitz KN loved to Pose to have her Picture Taken. 
Frontispiece. See Page 225. 




5 , 


Ned Brewster's Bear 
Hunt 


BY 

CHAUNCEY J. HAWKINS 

II 

AUTHOR OF ‘‘nED BREWSTER’s YEAR 
IN THE BIG woods” 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 
FROM PHOTOGRAPHS BY THE AUTHOR 


BOSTON 

LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 
1913 



Copyright^ 1913^ 

By Little, Brown, and Company. 

All rights reserved 

Published, September, 1913 


13r(ntfr0 

8. J. Parkhill & Co.. Bostow. U. 8. A. 



©CI.A351843 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I 

The Bear Country 


PAGE 

1 

II 

The Camp Kit .... 


11 

III 

The Burnt Lands 


21 

IV 

In Camp with the Woodchuck Family 

38 

V 

Molly, our Pack Animal . 


52 

VI 

Flashlighting a Bear 


62 

VII 

The Old Bear and her Cubs . 


75 

VIII 

Cheokhes, the Thief . 


89 

IX 

Escapades with Porcupines 


102 

X 

Fight with a Big Bear 


123 

XI 

The Loon Family 


143 

XII 

Capturing Bear Cubs 


157 

XIII 

The Beaver Colony . 


176 

XIV 

Blindy 


194 

XV 

The Cub Bears .... 


209 

XVI 

A Wild Night .... 


231 

XVII 

Levesque’s Return 


249 

XVIII 

The Cubs in our City Home . 


265 


[v] 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


Blitzen loved to pose to have her picture taken 

Frontispiece ^ 


FACINa PAQB 


Two curious baby woodchucks . 

Eli had a woodchuck at bay . . . 

Molly, our pack animal .... 
Bruin trotted to the molasses barrel . 

A short distance from where we sat the old bear 

stopped 

The mink’s eyes seemed bright enough to pierce 

any secret 

She was not more than fifty feet away 
Mose started up the tree .... 

Beavers on their dam 

Two beavers on their house 
Blitzen would take dainty bits from our hands as 

gently as a baby 

George training the bear to go to the stump for 

food 

Blitzen was taking Donner’s picture . 

Donner and Blitzen would climb into my lap 
Starting on the long journey with the cubs 
Blitzen’s favorite pastime was in wheeling Bobbie 

about the lawn 

[vii] 


40 

48 

58 

72 v' 

78 

100 

134 

170 

188 

188 1/ 

210 

216 
224 ^ 
228 
256 

276 

















Ned Brewster's 

Bear Hunt 

CHAPTER ONE 

THE BEAR COUNTRY 

I NEVER cared much for ghost stories. 
They never fit very well with my idea 
of things. I like men with blood and 
bone, not blue gauze through which a boy 
can look. 

But one ghost yarn spoiled a lot of our fun. 
When dad and I were in New Brunswick, 
we often heard reports of a region where bears 
could be found in large numbers. A lumber- 
man who passed through our camp a year ago 
said he had frightened four bears from rasp- 
berry patches in one day. He stumbled 
on an old mother which had two small cubs 
trotting at her heels. As he sat by our 
camp fire and told how he gave her all the 
[ 1 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


room she wanted and circled far out around 
her, the story made such an impression upon 
my mind that I never forgot it. But we 
could not persuade Mose to go into this re- 
gion. When dad had suggested it, he always 
had some excuse. 

When our long vacation had nearly come 
to an end and still we had not been taken into 
the region of the bears, dad lost his patience. 
One morning after breakfast, with consider- 
able feeling in his voice, he said : — 

“To-morrow, Mose, we start for the bear. 
We are going to the Renouse and get some 
skins to take home.” 

Mose looked dad in the face to see if he 
meant what he said. Satisfied that dad was 
in earnest, he replied : — 

“Well, you’ll have to go without me.” 

There was such an unusual tone in the 
old guide’s voice, a mingling of determina- 
tion and pathos, that dad was taken by 
surprise. 

“You do not mean to say you will not go 
finally asked dad. 

“Well, I wish you wouldn’t put it just that 
way,” replied Mose. “It isn’t that I don’t 
want to go or am afraid to go, but — ” 

[ 2 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


“Must be the country is haunted,” inter- 
rupted dad. 

Mose looked quickly from the corners of 
his eyes. The very suggestion gave him a 
shock. He evidently thought the time had 
come to make a full confession. 

“Now the fact is just this. You fellows 
may laugh, but you’ll soon find it is no laugh- 
ing matter.” 

Then Mose began to tell his story with all 
the seriousness with which he might have 
told of the most sacred thing of his religion. 

“Years ago there was a lumber crew on 
the Renouse. They had done a big winter’s 
work and were taking the logs down to the 
yard. There was a Frenchman in the crew 
by the name of Xavier. One evening, just 
before sundown, he drove past the camp 
with a heavy load of logs. The cook came 
out of the cabin and shouted at him: — 

“‘Better call it a day’s work and stop. 
Supper’s most ready.’ 

“‘I’ll take these logs down to-night or I’ll 
eat supper in hell,’ he shouted back to the 
cook. 

“It was long after dark, and Xavier had 
not returned. The foreman became anxious 
[ 3 ] 


NED B REIVS T E S 


and ordered two or three men down to the 
yard to see if anything had happened. There 
they found Xavier under a big log, which 
rested on his chest. The life was crushed out 
of him. He had eaten half through the log 
in his struggle for freedom. Little did that 
fellow realize what was waiting for him when 
he talked of eating supper on the other side ! 

“A few nights later, I was going down the 
river after bear with a sportsman. We had 
just reached this spot in the river where 
Xavier had died, when my boat stopped as 
though it had struck a rock. I could not 
see any obstacle, yet I could not move the 
boat. It was an awful feeling to be held 
there in the darkness by an invisible power 
and not be able to discover what it was. Then 
I heard something like moaning. It made 
me think of old Xavier under the log. Still 
I was not frightened. I looked on the bank, 
and there by the dam was a man, bending over 
as though something was the matter with his 
back. He was the most awful-looking sight 
I had ever seen, dressed in something that 
shone like silver, and it had a ghostly tinge 
about it. The moaning kept up continually. 

“I thought some of the men from the camp 

[ 4 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


were trying to play a trick on us. The 
sportsman with me believed some of the men 
were planning to rob us and he wanted to 
shoot. I kept him from that, and, finally 
getting the boat started, rowed back to the 
opposite shore. Gathering a handful of rocks, 
I began to pelt the thing. 

“Now, I tell you, I never believed in ghosts, 
but that was the spirit of old Xavier. There 
is no doubt about it. The rocks had no more 
effect on him than as though he had been air. 
He walked squarely out on the shore, facing 
that hail of stones, came down to the river, 
and waded across. He climbed on the bank 
near us and hobbled into the woods, still 
moaning. 

“We were both so frightened by this time 
that we were shaking like poplar leaves. The 
sportsman with me was white as a sheet. I 
could not see myself, but I know I must have 
been the same color.” 

“Why didn’t you catch him, Mose V asked 
dad, who was so amused he could hardly 
ask the question with a serious face. 

“ Now I seldom tell this,” continued Mose, 
with deepened seriousness. “Men always 
laugh when they hear the story, but no man 
[ 5 ] 


NED BREIVS TER^ S 


laughed who was there that night. We went 
back to the lumber camp and told the men 
about it. At first, they thought it was a 
great joke. Then I persuaded half a dozen to 
take a boat and go down to the dam. 

“When they came near the dam, their boat 
stopped just as ours had done. That was 
enough for some of them. One Canadian 
Frenchman jumped overboard and started 
for the shore as though chased by a demon. 
The other men were trying desperately to 
start the boat, when the silvery white figure 
walked out on the shore again. 

“ ‘ Old Xavier ! ’ shouted one of the men, 
and they all tumbled overboard, deserted the 
boat, waded ashore, and ran, tumbling over 
logs and brush on their way to the camp. 

“One fellow fell over a stump and broke 
his leg. Not a man had courage to stop and 
help him. I had to go back with the sports- 
man who was with me and bring the poor 
fellow into camp. It was the most pathetic 
sight I ever saw. He was half hidden in 
a mudhole, shouting in the most agonizing 
sounds for help. He seemed to pay no atten- 
tion to his broken leg, but had actually gone 
crazy for fear the ghost would catch him. 

[ 6 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


“There was no sleep in the camp that night, 
and by daylight next morning every man had 
his few belongings packed in a small bundle 
and was starting for the settlement.’’ 

“What became of the logs I asked. 

“Every tree cut that winter,” continued 
Mose, “is still lying by the bank of the river. 
The company tried everywhere, but they 
never succeeded in securing enough men to 
complete the job. There is not a man in 
this whole region who has been in there hunt- 
ing since that day. I wouldn’t go for all the 
dollars you could pile upon this table.” 

It was evidently useless to try to persuade 
Mose to enter the bear country. This ex- 
perience was so real to him that nothing could 
have prevailed upon him at that time, so we 
left the woods without a single bear. 

Nearly a year had intervened since our 
long vacation in New Brunswick, and dad 
and I were both growing homesick for the old 
familiar trails, the lakes, and the hills. 

Possibly the frog pond, within a stone’s 
throw of our home, had something to do with 
the return of this feeling. The place was full 
of the new life of spring. The red maples 
were brilliant with their swollen buds. The 
[ 7 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


skunk cabbage and the fuzzy fiddle-heads of 
the cinnamon ferns were forerunners of the new 
life that was soon to crowd into the marsh. 
The leaves of the pond lilies were struggling 
to the surface of the water, and parts of the 
pond were yellow with cowslips. 

One evening after dinner, dad and I took a 
stroll about the pond to see the new life and 
listen to the many sounds. From every part 
of its surface came the song of the Spring 
Peepers. We caught the trill of a Tree Toad, 
but could not locate the little creature. Then 
came a sound which many never associate 
with a slimy frog. It was the voice of the 
American Toad, singing its love song, high 
pitched and tremulous. 

As we listened to this new orchestra of the 
spring we saw a slight disturbance in the 
water at our feet. A snake was wiggling 
through the leaves and mud, but what a 
queer head it had. Two long objects were 
protruding from its mouth, which proved to be 
the legs of a frog. As the unsuspecting crea- 
ture had rested on a lily pad, singing its spring 
song, the snake had stolen on him and swal- 
lowed him head first. Dad threw the cannibal 
from the water with the end of his cane, 
[ 8 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


pressed gently on the back of the snake’s 
head, and soon the frog went hopping away, 
glad of its freedom. 

I could see that the spirit of the spring was 
awakening dad’s blood, and when a trout, even 
though a half -civilized trout, jumped out of 
the water, trying to catch a fly, dad actually 
imagined his cane was a fishing rod and began 
to talk excitedly about the salmon of the 
Miramichi. 

"‘Let’s go, dad,” I exclaimed. “What is 
the use of living in this kind of a place, any- 
way ?” 

“You little savage,” laughed dad. “You 
would live up there all the time, if you had a 
chance.” 

“But what is the use of living here,” I 
persisted. “There is nothing about this town 
except just eking out a living or getting ready 
to do it. In the woods you really live.” 

Dad only laughed. He knew what I said 
was true, but he gave no encouragement 
about going into the wilds. 

The next morning, when I came down to 
breakfast, I saw a letter on dad’s desk ad- 
dressed to Mose. I had suspicions that the 
tonic of the night before had been too much 
[ 9 ] 


NED BREPVS T E S 


for dad’s system and that he was planning 
another trip to the wilderness of the Mira- 
michi. 

A week or more later, while we sat at 
dinner, dad took a letter from his pocket. 

“A line from Mose to-day,” he said in 
a half-indifferent tone. “He says he will go 
into the bear country with us this season, if 
we come up.” 

I fairly jumped out of my seat. This was 
the one thing of which we had dreamed and 
planned but thought impossible. 

“Says he will go, if we guarantee not to 
travel within a mile of the dam on the Re- 
nouse,” continued dad. “I told him we 
would not go this season unless he would take 
us into the bear region. It was this or noth- 
ing.” 


[ 10 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


CHAPTER TWO 

THE CAMP KIT 

D ad said it would be at least two 
weeks before he could get away. I 
really did not see how I could wait so 
long. The spirit of the woods was upon me, 
and I could think of nothing except the great 
forests, the runways of the deer and moose, 
and the feeding places of the bear. 

Dad finally announced one evening that his 
kit was about ready, and that if I intended to 
go with him, I would better gather mine. 

He had a new gun with which he hoped to 
bring down several huge bears, but I was 
going after them with the camera. 

“You are foolish,” said dad, as I talked 
the matter over with him, “to try to secure 
pictures of bears. Photographing moose is 
one thing, but photographing bears is another. 
They are seldom taken by surprise, and even 
the oldest and best trappers can count upon 
the fingers of their hands all the black bears 
they have ever seen in a free State.” 

This was slight encouragement, to say the 

[ 11 ] 


NED BREWS T E S 


least, and what I had read about the habits 
of bears did not cause my hopes to rise very 
high. I knew the difficulties in the task, and 
realized fully the keen sense and the timid 
nature of the animal I was to attempt to 
photograph. 

Probably no animal in the woods is so quick 
to evade the hunters as the blaek bear. Many 
times I have come upon a huge moose while 
he stood flopping his long lip or shaking his 
wide antlers, but never offering to run. I 
have seen the graceful deer paw the ground 
or snort in deflant spirit, while he curiously 
tried to determine the nature of his invader. 
But the bear is doubling himself into a ball of 
black fur as he makes his stocky legs take 
him at a terrific speed, long before the hunter 
even suspects his presence. Yet, in spite of all 
these difficulties, I was determined to devote 
most of my time to the task of securing bear 
pictures, though the result might be nothing. 
It was genuine excitement I was after, and 
this seemed to promise more than anything 
I could possibly do. 

‘‘I admire your pluck more than your judg- 
ment,” was all dad said, when I told him my 
final decision. 


[ 12 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


‘‘But I have thought out a method, dad,” 
I replied, “by which I am certain we could 
have some success.” 

“One of those schemes that looks better in 
books than in the woods,” dad replied, as he 
cast me a credulous glance. “What is your 
scheme ?” 

“Well, old Bruin is very fond of molasses, 
cheese, salt pork, etc.,” I stated in explanation 
of my plan. 

“No doubt about that. He will take all 
he can get,” said dad. 

“Now suppose,” I continued, “we take 
along a large supply of those things, put them 
out in different places until the bears find them 
and form the habit of coming there to feed. 
Then we can go and wait for our picture.” 

Dad only laughed. 

“Good theory,” he said. “But do you 
realize that you might have to wait a week in 
some of these places before a bear would come? ” 

“It is worth waiting a week to get a good 
picture of a bear, isn’t it ?” I asked, with the 
proud feeling that dad had already uncon- 
sciously admitted that my scheme was a good 
one. 

“And you think you would hide a week 
[ 13 ] 


NED BREWS TER^ S 


in one place, then wait for a bear to walk 
within forty feet of you before you snapped 
his picture ? ” 

‘'I’d wait two weeks for such a chance.” 

The very thought of having a big bear walk 
within a few feet of me while I kept my nerve 
and snapped his picture fairly made my fin- 
gers tingle to get the chance. 

“Well, that’s the spirit of the true sports- 
man,” declared dad, as he saw my determina- 
tion. “The scheme is worth trying, anyway. 
I’ll furnish all the bait you need if you work 
the camera.” 

It was agreed that this should be my work 
during the summer, and I started to gather 
everything needed for the expedition. 

The collection of this camp kit was the thing 
of most importance before us. If we selected 
the right articles, we were confident of com- 
fort through all our journey. If we made a 
mistake in our choice, only misery was before 
us until we could return to civilization. 
There would be no chance to repair the error 
of judgment before we left the woods. The 
grocery store would be fifty or a hundred 
miles away, and the clothing store would be 
even a greater distance. 

[ 14 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


The clerks in most sporting houses are of 
very little value in aiding one to gather the 
right materials for a long journey. They 
have never been in the deep woods and know 
nothing of what is needed. Yet they talk 
wisely, — it is their business to do so, — but 
if one listens to them, he will be loaded down 
with things which are about as valuable as a 
razor would be in felling a tree. 

“Remember that the first thing to be con- 
sidered,” said dad, as I began to gather my 
kit, “is proper clothing. Have everything of 
wool.” 

Dad had learned through many years of 
experience that one is exposed to every kind 
of weather, pouring rain and, what is just 
as trying, the heavy dews which soak the ferns 
and bushes through which one is compelled to 
travel. When cotton underwear is wet, it 
becomes soggy and uncomfortable ; and when 
one sits down to rest, he is soon chilled and 
easily catches cold. But with woolen under- 
wear, he can tramp all day with ease and never 
have any fear of exposure. 

Most boys have an idea that they must 
wear khaki trousers and shirts into the woods, 
imitating the Rough Riders or the Boy Scouts, 
[ 15 ] 


NED BREIVS TER^S 


but it is the very worst material that could be 
selected. It is a hard cloth and scratches 
against every bush and twig, making a noise 
that can be heard by animals at a long distance. 
Then it is so light in color, in such contrast 
to the green foliage, that any animal can 
quickly detect the person who wears it. 

Trousers, shirt, and hat should be a dark 
blue or gray, and of a soft wool texture which 
will enable one to steal noiselessly through the 
brush. The greatest caution must be exer- 
cised in the choice of clothing for the feet. 
If a mistake is made here, the best planned 
journey is spoiled. 

Usually a boy is tempted to select a 
pair of shoes with high tops that come 
nearly to his knees. He has been assured 
by some clerk that these shoes are water- 
tight and are the only things to be taken 
into the woods. The high price attached to 
them may also be a bait to lure him to the 
purchase. 

But it may be put down as a rule without 
exception that no shoe ever made of leather 
was water-tight, and when the boy with high 
shoes reaches the woods, wades all day through 
mud and water, ponds, brooks, and rivers, he 
[ 16 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


will soon discover that his feet are bound to 
be wet from morning until night. 

Then his trouble will begin, especially if he 
has worn thin cotton stockings. His feet will 
chafe and blister, the boots will grow heavy 
as lead, and within a few days he will be a 
prisoner in camp, unable to walk or place his 
foot upon the ground without agony. 

The first essential to a well-ordered camp 
kit is a half dozen pairs of heavy, knit, wool 
stockings, not less than an eighth of an inch 
in thickness and long enough to come nearly 
to the knees. Two pairs of these heavy stock- 
ings should be worn at a time, which will save 
the foot from the sharp stones and roots and 
will be perfectly comfortable, even when 
they are soaked with water. 

Dad and I prefer the low moccasins with a 
sole to wear over these double stockings, but 
more use the moccasin with a top which reaches 
the ankle. Either is light and makes a good 
protection to the foot. 

Another mistake most people make when 
they go into the woods is to tuck their trousers 
inside of their shoes or stockings. This is 
the worst thing that could possibly be done; as, 
when the heavy dews or rains soak the 
[ 17 ] 


NED BREI4^S TER’ S 


trousers, the water simply runs down into 
the shoes and floods the feet. The best 
possible arrangement is to cut the bottom of 
the trousers off flve or six inches above the 
ankle, so that all water will drop down over 
the shoe. 

Three articles will make a very comfortable 
bed : a heavy, double, army blanket and two 
rubber blankets. Nature will furnish the 
mattress, the elastic, flat needles of the flr 
balsam. A bed of these boughs a foot thick 
will be as soft as any mattress at home, but 
it is very essential to have a rubber blanket 
over them, or the heat from the body will 
draw the moisture from the ground and from 
the needles, and the bedding will become 
damp. A rubber blanket spread over the 
top of the bed will also protect it from the 
fine spray that will come through the best 
tent in a heavy rain. 

The question of provisions is one that must 
be determined by the means of transportation 
into the woods. If everything can be taken 
by water in a canoe, all the luxuries of a 
table at home may be part of the camp life. 
On the other hand, if everything has to be 
carried on the backs of men, the camp sup- 
[ 18 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


plies must be reduced to the very lowest 
possible amount to sustain life. 

There were to be four men in our party, 
and the total camp kit was to be toted over 
a very rough road by a team. 

Five hundred pounds was considered a 
heavy load over this road, and hence we had 
to reduce everything to a minimum. We 
took only the simplest things to eat. Still, 
after the entire kit was together, we found it 
weighed over six hundred pounds. 

“The driver will strike on this weight,” 
said dad, as he looked over the supplies, 
wondering what we could leave behind. 

“We cannot take much less and keep 
four men alive for two months.” 

“Your camera supplies are very heavy. 
Then there is all the molasses and other bear 
food to be added.” 

It was clear that we would have to engage 
an extra wagon to take our duffle into the 
woods, so dad telegraphed ahead to have 
another team meet us at the railroad station. 

When we reached Doaktown, Mose was 
waiting for us with a husky guide, George, 
who was to assist us, and two drivers. 

It was a glorious morning. The air was 
[ 19 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


clear and pure. A slight chill was in the at- 
mosphere, — just enough to put new life into 
us. The birds which had recently passed over 
Boston on their annual migration were singing 
from the tree tops and the fence rails. The 
Miramichi River was moving majestically 
toward the sea, its surface broken by the 
trout jumping for flies. 

We were soon on our way, feeling the ex- 
hilaration of the great woods and talking over 
the old times with Mose. 


BEAR HUNT 


CHAPTER THREE 


THE BURNT LANDS 


T he second day on the trail we camped 
on the banks of the Big Dungarvin. 
“It looks to me as though those 
clouds were going to empty before long,” 
said dad, as we reached the great river. 
“We would better stop here, pitch our tents, 
and prepare for the storm, before it breaks 
and soaks our duffle.” 

For two hours we had been hearing thunder 
rumbling in the distance, and gradually the 
black clouds had drifted down upon us, until 
the sky had an angry look and the sun was 
entirely hidden. 

“This is an awful country for thunder- 
storms,” said Mose. “They sweep down this 
river with terrific force. If we want to keep 
the things dry, we’d better put the tents 
up in a hurry. That storm will break within 
half an hour.” 

The wind had already risen, a forewarner 
of the rain, and was sweeping down the valley 
at a terrific speed. The tall pines along the 
[ 21 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


bank of the river were bending before the 
gale. Every sign of life, birds and squirrels, 
even the noisy jays, had disappeared, having 
sought protection from the elements. Far 
away on the mountain the black clouds were 
emptying themselves in a drenching rain, 
while bolts of chain lightning could be seen 
shooting from the sky into the dark forest. 

“She’s going to be terrible when she hits,” 
shouted George, above the gale, as he chopped 
poles for the tents. 

“Lose no time,” said dad, “or we’ll receive 
such a drenching that we will not get things 
dry for a week.” 

Mose was busy driving two long, forked 
sticks into the ground for the ridgepole which 
was to hold up the tent. 

“Now, all hands to the task,” he shouted 
as the poles were finally set. “Drive the pegs 
in the upper side and make the ropes fast, or 
the wind will take her over as soon as we lift 
her up.” 

Mose and dad raised the tent into place, 
and George and I secured the lower ropes. 

“It’ll be a miracle if we ever hold her,” 
said dad, as the wind caught her sides and 
nearly took us into the river. 

[ 22 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


“Now once more and all together,” shouted 
Mose. 

George caught the rope at one end of the 
tent and I made fast the one at the other end. 
While the wind tugged and fought against the 
canvas, we made the others tight and then 
quickly tied those on the lower side, and the 
tent was safe. A few extra pulls on the 
rope made her so strong that no wind could 
take her down without ripping the canvas 
in shreds. 

“Not a minute too soon,” exclaimed dad, 
as he looked into the sky, from which the 
first drops were already coming down. “Every 
man shoulder some of the dufl3e and make for 
the tent.” 

In a few minutes all the supplies were under 
cover and safe from the storm, but our personal 
outlook was not so pleasant. There was not a 
spot left in the tent where we could lie down, 
and there was no chance of raising another 
tent. Even before we could do it the ground 
would be soaked, and there would be no 
possibility of gathering dry boughs to make 
a bed for the night. 

“Well, Ned, I guess you can sleep on top of 
the flour barrel. The rest of us will have to 
[23] 


NED BREWS T ER^ S 


stand round all night to see that you do not 
fall off,” said dad, jokingly, as we all looked 
at one another, each trying to see the humor- 
ous side of the desperate situation. 

The storm had broken in all its fury. The 
water was falling, not in drops, but in sheets, 
on the tent, and the clouds were cracking 
with thunder. One bolt of lightning followed 
another, and the sheet lightning seemed never 
to leave the sky. Often we could see to the 
top of the range by the intense light. 

‘‘She’ll be a good one if she does not break 
in this storm,” George declared as he looked 
at the canvas. 

“She’ll be lucky if she isn’t struck by a 
bolt and the whole lot of us with her,” added 
Mose. 

No one seemed to take this as a joke. 
It is a question if Mose meant it as such. 
Dad sat on the box of condensed milk, while I 
was perched on the barrel of flour. George 
and Mose were resting on bags of blankets 
and tents. We all seemed to be resigned to 
the situation, as though we were in the death 
house waiting for the electric chair. 

“I don’t feel any too good about all these 
tall pines about this tent,” said dad. 

[U] 


BEAR HUNT 


The words were scarcely out of his mouth 
when we jumped wildly to our feet. 

Just across the river a great spruce was 
struck and came tumbling down. The top 
reached halfway to the bank on our side. The 
crash of the thunder was deafening. 

“Talk about enjoying a thunderstorm!” I 
exclaimed. “I’ll take mine a little farther 
away, if you please!” 

“Just as soon the other fellow would have 
my part of the enjoyment,” said George, 
crouching down a little closer on the bags. 

That was the last thing any of us seemed to 
know for several minutes. When I came to 
myself, I was lying on the ground, conscious 
of a queer feeling through my body. My 
mouth felt prickly, as though I had just 
swallowed some very strong acid. Dad was 
still on the box, looking about in a half-dazed 
manner, while both George and Mose were 
huddled on the bags as though they had 
been given a quieting powder and had no 
desire to move. 

“What happened, Mose V asked dad, who 
was the first to speak. 

“You all alive?” was Mose’s reply. “I 
had a feeling I was the only one who escaped.” 

[ 25 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


“Don’t know whether I have escaped or 
not,” came a quiet, frightened voice from 
George. 

“Gee ! but wasn’t that some !” I exclaimed. 
“Knocked me gaily west all right. Feel as 
though I was fixed to a big battery still.” 

There was a high pine about twenty feet be- 
hind our tent and a fir not more than twenty- 
five feet in front. Both these trees were 
lying flat, splintered by the lightning and 
blown over by the gale. 

The first warning we had was an awful crash. 
There was not a second between the flash and 
the deafening sound. Then we seemed to be 
enveloped in a ball of fire. Whether I 
instinctively jumped off the barrel or was 
knocked off may be a question, but there is no 
doubt about the fearful shock I received. 
Dad was straightened out stiff, as though he 
had hold of an electric wire. 

The rain continued to fall in torrents, though 
the wind was not blowing so strong as earlier 
in the evening. Little by little the lightning 
flashes became less frequent, and the roll of 
the thunder was heard only far down the river. 

“There is no use to talk,” said dad, “we 
must put up another tent. It may rain all 
[ 26 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


night, and we would better be wet than sit 
here perched on boxes and barrels/’ 

“We can easily set up the lean-to tent,” 
added Mose, “and now that the wind has 
gone down, that will protect us as well as 
any.” 

Mose started with the ax to cut some more 
poles, while George took the tent from its 
bag and unwrapped it. In a minute Mose 
was standing again in front of the tent, hold- 
ing a long spar in his hand. 

“A little more, boys, and one of us would 
not be here to tell the tale,” he said. “The 
lightning drove this thing eighteen inches 
into the ground just behind our tent.” 

It was a splinter, eight or nine feet long, 
which had been torn from the very heart of 
the tree and hurled into the ground. Had it 
come a few feet farther, it probably would 
have gone through one of us. 

The rain did not slacken through the night. 
The lightning ceased, but the thunder seemed 
to be only the forerunner of a storm that was 
to continue for some time. 

“IVe seen it rain for a week after one of 
these heavy gales,” said George, who was the 
weather prophet of the company. 

[ 27 ] 


NED BREWS TER^ S 


We managed to pitch a tent in the rain and, 
by spreading rubber blankets on the ground, 
made a bed into which we scrambled and kept 
warm until morning. There was not much 
comfort sleeping on the hard, wet ground, 
even though the rubber blankets kept all the 
water from our bedding. Our sleep was 
restless and broken, as we were all nerved up 
over the lightning, thinking what might have 
happened to us on that lonely trail, where 
no man might have come for weeks to find us. 
We were exceedingly glad when the gray light 
of morning began to show in the sky, and we 
could see each other’s faces. 

The rain was still pouring in sheets. The 
small streams were roaring and plunging down 
the mountain sides, and the river had risen 
several inches during the night. 

For three days the rain continued to fall. 
The weather was so promising when we left 
Doaktown that the driver did not think it 
necessary to bring a rubber sheet that would 
cover the entire load, and dad would not 
move, as he did not want to take any chances 
of wetting our provisions. Then we had 
discovered a fact so interesting that we were 
very glad to remain by the river. 

[ 28 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


A great fire had, a few years before, swept 
down one side of the stream, burning over 
forty miles of rich forests. The side of the 
mountain opposite us stood a barren waste, 
with here and there the black, charred body 
of a once noble pine standing as a witness to 
the wreckage. Fire weed, whose red flower 
seems to run in the wake of the flames, grew 
over the burnt soil, and low scrubby bushes 
had come up in the place of the giant spruce 
and firs. A brook tumbled down the side of 
the mountain just opposite our camp and 
poured its water into the river. 

“That brook deposits tons of mud in the 
river after every storm,” said dad, as we sat 
looking at the red clay drifting down the 
stream. “Here is a great chance to see the 
effect of forest fires, not only on the soil, but 
on the rivers.” 

“This was all caused,” Mose added, “by 
two careless fellows fishing farther up the 
stream. They were spearing at night and, 
when they finished, they threw their torch 
on the shore. The next morning they saw 
the fire burning, but went away and left it. 
A week later, the government rushed several 
hundred men up here to fight the flames, but 
[ 29 ] 


NED BREWS TER^ S 


before they could stop them, the fire had 
burned thousands of dollars’ worth of timber.” 

“Not only timber,” continued dad, “but 
such a fire destroys the soil. When the 
shade is gone, the sun burns out the life of 
the ground, and, if this continues, it leaves 
the region a desert waste, like Palestine and 
parts of Southern Europe.” 

We all became so interested in the dis- 
cussion that we put on our rubber coats and 
started out to study the effects of the fire on 
the hills. 

Making our way across the river on a raft, 
we started up Picket Mountain, the largest 
mountain in the burnt region, circled around 
its side, then came down its west slope, crossed 
the river again, and came back to camp 
through the thickly forested section, to 
compare the effect of the rain upon the burnt 
and wooded regions. 

Every brook in the burnt land was swollen, 
plunging and leaping down the steep mountain, 
carrying dirt and rocks with it towards the 
river. The water was yellow with mud, and 
all along its course we could see the banks 
crumbling into the stream and the land- 
slides, some large and others small, slipping 
[ 30 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


down the slopes to add more debris to the 
already dirt-laden waters. 

Dad took a cup, which he always carried in 
his belt, and dipped up some of the water. 
After he had let it set for some time, he 
poured the water off and found there was an 
inch of mud in the bottom. He tried the 
same experiment on the forested side of the 
river and found there was only a slight coating 
of sand in the cup. The brooks in the 
forested region were not so swollen, and 
the water had only the slight reddish tinge of 
the rain water which falls from the roof of 
our houses. 

It was evident that the forested lands acted 
as a sponge which held the waters back, and 
that the roots of trees and shrubs held the 
soil in place so it could not be carried away 
by the rains. 

Indeed, it was like walking on a great sponge 
through the forests. We dug away the old 
turf of leaves and roots and decayed logs 
and branches, and found it had a depth 
varying from one to three feet, and that the 
rain, which had fallen during the night, had 
soaked down a foot. 

‘‘This water, you see,” said dad, “will 
[ 31 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


run away gradually, thus keeping the streams 
fed all summer. The water from the burnt 
ridge runs away quickly, and then, when the 
rain ceases, the brooks fall, and there is 
nothing to feed the rivers. This is why the 
cutting away of our forests is such a serious 
matter for the entire country. As they are de- 
stroyed, our water courses are endangered.” 

“And think of the mud that is carried down 
to the harbors,” added George. “Why, this 
one rain has sent down enough dirt to the 
mouth of the Miramichi to keep a dredge 
working for a year.” 

Mose, whose thoughts never extended as 
far as the mouth of the long Miramichi, 
saw the difficulties which were nearer home. 

“The worst parts of this whole thing are 
the sand bars which this mud makes along the 
Big Dungarvin. They are a nuisance in 
driving time. I have seen hundreds of logs 
piled upon them and jammed so hard that 
only dynamite could loosen them.” 

When we returned to camp, the rain was 
still pouring and continued all through the 
night. But dad and I had become so in- 
terested in the forestry problem that we rather 
welcomed the rain, and after breakfast 
[32] 


BEAR HUNT 


we started alone to the top of Picket Moun- 
tain to study the streams at their sources and to 
see the storm as it swept over the entire region. 
Mose and George remained in camp to 
get things in better order for our comfort, 
as it seemed probable that it would be several 
days before we could move along. 

‘‘You’ll have a hard time climbing Picket 
to-day,” said George, as we started. “There 
is no trail, and you’ll be mud to the tops of 
your heads.” 

George was not far from right. We found 
the side of the mountain a tangle of fallen 
trees. Black logs were twisted together in 
every conceivable shape. In places we were 
compelled to use the ax before we could 
advance at all. 

The mud was ankle deep at every step, and 
in many places it was necessary to wade in 
black muck nearly to our hips. We were 
constantly meeting with new-made gullies 
which had been dug into the mountain by the 
recent storm. Some of them were several 
feet deep and a hundred yards or more in 
length, pouring their yellow masses into the 
brooks. We certainly saw enough of these 
places on our way to the summit, to say 
[ 33 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


nothing of the natural wear on the banks of the 
already existing brooks, to warrant a large 
expenditure of money for cleaning the harbors. 

Halfway up the mountain we came to a 
landslide which was a hundred feet across and 
two hundred and fifty feet in length. Tons of 
rock and mud had slipped down the mountain 
and entirely blocked a stream of considerable 
size. The water had been held back and 
already formed quite a pond. In a little 
while it reached the top of the dam and poured 
over it in great volumes. We watched it for 
some time, as it quickly plowed its way 
down through the soft earth, carrying vast 
quantities of mud with it as it plunged along 
to the sea. 

We examined the great hole left by the 
landslide and found along the edges old roots 
which had decayed and lost their strength. 

‘‘These were the roots that once held the 
soil in place,” said dad. “They made a 
network through the ground, and so long as 
there was life in them, the earth could not 
move. You seldom see a landslide in the 
forested regions.” 

It was all a sharp lesson to me on the de- 
struction of forest fires, and I understood 
[ 34 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


better than ever before the need of exercising 
great care in building a fire in the woods, and 
especially in seeing that the last spark is 
out before leaving it. 

When we reached the summit of the moun- 
tain, the sight was both grand and oppressive. 
So far as we could see toward the north was a 
barren waste of burnt land. What was once a 
great forest was only a wilderness of charred 
poles, standing gray and black in the pouring 
rain. The very spirit of desolation was over 
the whole place. 

Still there was something magnificent in 
the scene that more than repaid us for the 
hard climb. A very unusual thing had hap- 
pened. In the midst of the already pouring 
rain another thunderstorm had arisen. We 
had heard the low rumbling in the south for 
some time. Now that we stood on the top 
of the mountain, we could see the lightning 
coming nearer. 

It was a new experience for both of us. We 
had often seen the angry thunder clouds blow 
overhead, but now we seemed to be in them. 
The lightning, instead of darting from the 
sky, appeared to form somewhere near us and 
go plunging to the earth. 

[ 35 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


“It seems to me I can feel the electricity in 
the air,” said dad. 

“I’d rather be up here where it starts than 
down there where it hits,” I added, 
i “We might send a message to Mose,” 
replied dad, as we saw chain after chain dart 
down into the valley. 

Sharp peals of thunder rang all about us, 
which told that these flashes were striking 
not far away. Between the claps of thunder, 
we could hear the roar of the Big Dungarvin 
as its swollen stream bounded over rocks and 
crowded down through the narrow rapids. 
The wind whistled over the bare summit of 
the mountain, driving the rain into our faces 
and compelling us at times to crouch low to 
keep on our feet. All together it was a wild 
storm, and the new angle from which we 
viewed it only added to its charm. 

A great stump fifty feet high, hardened by 
sun and wind, stood only a few rods below us. 
A flash struck it and broke it into a million 
splinters. It crumbled under the bolt as 
though it had been made of feathers. Before 
the storm ceased, we had seen three of these 
dry, hardened trees crushed and scattered 
over the ground. By noon, light spots 
[ 36 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


began to appear in the sky; the rain ceased 
and the wind died away. 

“She’s going to clear,” said dad. “We 
had better hasten to camp, gather up our 
things, and prepare for an early start in the 
morning.” 

It was a hard walk back to the river. We 
passed several places where the lightning had 
struck. The streams had risen still higher, 
and Big Dungarvin was roaring. 

George and Mose were already preparing 
to break camp early in the morning, and after 
a delicious supper cooked over the camp fire, 
the first good one we had been able to build 
since we had been made prisoners by the 
storm, we tumbled into bed for a long, restful 
sleep before we should start over the hard 
trail the next day. 


[ 37 ] 


NED BREWS T ER^ S 


CHAPTER FOUR 

IN CAMP WITH THE WOODCHUCK FAMILY 

I T was the last part of the afternoon 
before we reached Fowler’s Camps — 
old, deserted log cabins, not far from 
the Renouse. 

We had tramped all day through the mud 
and swamps of the burnt lands and over the 
wet, soggy, tote roads leading through marshes 
and along the banks of lakes and streams. 

The sky was bright and clear. Every cloud 
had disappeared, and the air was so pure and 
invigorating that it made us feel like climbing 
trees and leaping over logs and boulders. 

The cabins were situated by a mountain 
brook, which sang and bubbled over the pebbles 
on its way to the river, and all about them tall 
grass waved in the gentle breeze. There was a 
large clearing made by the lumbermen years 
before, and the camp, grown over with moss, 
nestled in the heart of the great forest. 

Probably no human foot had entered its 
doors for many months, and the spirit of isola- 
[ 38 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


tion was so marked in the very atmosphere of 
the place that we felt like intruders in the soli- 
tude. We were fifty miles from a railroad, in 
the heart of a great wilderness, and when the 
team stopped before the main cabin and I 
realized where we were, so far from friends, 
with no way of communicating with them, for 
the first time I was touched with loneliness, 
feeling that truly I was in the great woods, a 
child of the forest. 

The mood, however, was soon broken by 
the discovery that the main cabin was already 
occupied, and that the place was alive with 
animals. As soon as the door was opened, 
squeaks came from beneath the fioor; there 
was a scampering of feet across the logs, and 
little, reddish brown creatures were hurrying 
for a hiding place. 

“Woodchucks,” said George, my guide, 
and at the same time pointed to the head 
of a baby woodchuck looking through the 
cracks to discover who had come to disturb 
their peace. 

There was evidently a family of them 
beneath the cabin. They had occupied the 
place all the spring, and now were confused 
at this sudden intrusion. The old parents 
[ 39 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


knew what it all meant and ran into hiding, 
from which they did not come again until 
nearly dark ; but the little fellows had never 
seen a man, and while they felt caution was 
their best policy, their curiosity was too much 
for them. All through the afternoon they 
continued to run about, peeking through the 
cracks in the floor, to see this strange creature 
who had come to disturb their playground. 

“A great chance to photograph them,” 
said George. “You can secure pictures of 
woodchuck, if nothing else.” 

“Don’t be too sure,” added Mose. “This 
is the last you will see of them. To-night 
they will change their den and probably go 
into the woods.” 

For fear there might be some truth in what 
Mose said, I decided to waste no time in 
preparations and if possible to take their 
pictures early next morning. 

We slept late the next day. The “music of 
sleep,” as one guide called it, was still issuing 
in rasping, sonorous tones from both Mose 
and George when the morning sun found 
its way into my eyes through an opening in 
the cabin and awakened me. 

Before any other members of the party were 
[ 40 ] 





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Two Curious Baby Woodchucks. Page 41 . 




BEAR HUNT 


dressed, I went into the kitchen and saw a 
young woodchuck dart under the stove, down 
through an opening in the floor, and away to 
his hiding place. 

This was the last we saw of the tiny creatures 
for several days. Where they kept themselves 
we were not able to discover, though it must 
have been under the floor of the cabin. At 
night they stole forth to nibble the tender 
clover leaves and feed upon the grass. I 
almost despaired of ever making friends with 
them or even securing their pictures. 

Being well settled in camp, we went on a 
cruise through the surrounding country to 
learn what we could of the movements of the 
bears and to And, if possible, some beavers’ 
works. After an absence of several days, I 
returned a few hours before the rest of the 
party, and to my delight found that the wood- 
chucks had again taken possession of the cabin. 
Two little fellows were sunning themselves 
on a log at one corner of the cook room, 
but when they ;saw me approaching by the 
tote road, they darted down a hole and ran 
under the floor. 

Thinking they might appear again, I set 
my camera within a few feet of this spot and 
[ 41 ] 


NED BREWS TER^ S 


waited to see what would happen. In a few 
minutes I saw a little reddish brown nose 
coming over the log. Then another slipped 
out. But no sooner had their eyes peeped 
over the rough bark than they both scampered 
back, chattering and scolding at the strange 
thing they had discovered. 

Their curiosity, however, had been aroused, 
and they could not resist the tempation to see 
again the black object sitting upon three 
long, slender legs, having a big glass eye and 
many bright, shining spots upon it. 

I stood perfectly still, watching the confused 
babies and enjoying immensely their funny 
antics. Their heads would pop over the logs, 
then as quickly disappear, and each time 
the chattering and scolding would be repeated. 

Not once through the whole performance 
did I move a muscle, not so much as to even 
wink an eye. This is the true secret of success- 
fully observing animals. Most cf them, so 
long as they cannot smell you or discover any 
motion, are not able to distinguish between a 
man and a stump. 

As these creatures had not been able to 
detect a single movement, and the wind had 
carried all scent from them, they finally con- 
[ 42 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


eluded that there could be no danger ; so they 
came boldly from their dark hiding place, 
climbed upon the log and stretched out again 
to warm themselves in the morning sun. 

It was a great temptation to snap the 
camera and secure a picture. Their pose was 
beautiful, and I knew it might be my last 
opportunity. But I also knew that the noise 
of my camera would frighten them, and that 
if they were disturbed, they would probably 
leave the place and I would see them no more. 
Hence, at the risk of losing an excellent pic- 
ture, I refrained from snapping the camera, 
stood quietly watching them, and began to 
devise plans to make an abiding friendship. 

After ten or fifteen minutes — it seemed to me 
hours — I ventured to wink my eyes. Their 
keen sight caught the motion, and in a second 
they were all alert. What they had taken for 
lifeless logs had suddenly become alive, and 
without waiting to make any further discovery 
they ran away. 

Soon they came out to make further investi- 
gation and to satisfy their curiosity. Again 
I was motionless, and they came into plain 
sight to study me. 

Slowly I lifted my hand. They twitched 
[ 43 ] 


NED B REIVS T ER^ S 


their bodies, but did not run. Then I turned 
very gradually and quietly walked away, 
leaving my camera on the tripod. They 
bobbed up and down, in and out of the hole, 
peeped, chattered, and then took their places 
on the log to sun themselves the remainder of 
the morning. 

I had once captured a small woodchuck on a 
farm and made a delightful pet of him. 
He was only a little baby, still nursing with 
his mother, and I had to feed him with a bottle. 
He would climb on my lap, take the nipple 
in his tiny mouth, and drink as contentedly as 
a child. I felt certain that I could make pets 
of these baby woodchucks and have the joy 
of their presence about the camp, if I made 
no mistakes in the beginning of the friend- 
ship. 

They are animals which see less daylight 
than any other creatures of the woods. They 
scarcely know there is a severe northern 
winter. When the first fiurry of snow comes, 
they go into their hole and remain there until 
the warm days in spring. Their toes may be 
pinched by a few early autumn frosts or a 
few cold nights in April, but it is quite possible 
that some of them live their allotted time 
[ 44 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


without seeing more than a half dozen snow- 
storms and few really cold hours. Nearly 
the entire day, even through the summer, they 
lie huddled in their den, where the sunlight 
never enters, venturing forth only at sun- 
down and in the night. They must pass most 
of their existence in sleeping, as they do not 
store food to eat in their house. 

They are the least industrious of all animals. 
If they cannot find a hole already dug for them, 
they dig one for themselves and work vigorously 
until it is completed. That is their only labor 
in an entire lifetime, food always being easy 
to obtain in the fields or about the woods. 
After they eat all they want, they go back in 
their dens and sleep. 

Knowing their habits, I was glad to find 
a family of young ones that had not yet 
fallen into the sleepy habits of the older 
woodchucks, and felt certain that I could 
have some very unusual pets about the cabins. 

“You might just as well try to make pets 
of bumblebees as woodchucks,” laughed Mose, 
as I told him my plan, when the party re- 
turned from the cruise. 

Mose was a trapper and hunter. He had 
never looked upon animals as friends, and the 
[ 45 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


very thought of training these wild creatures 
not only seemed unnatural to him, but even 
ludicrous. 

I was more interested, however, in making 
them true companions than in taking their 
lives. I had learned that a live animal is 
always much more interesting than a dead 
one, and the thrill which came from sneaking 
upon them and shooting them with a gun 
from ambush was small sport indeed in com- 
parison with the greater skill required in 
gaining their confidence and winning their 
friendship. 

Having a few apples left which we had 
brought into camp, I put them apart as deli- 
cacies for the woodchucks ; and when the little 
fellows went back into their den, I cut a nice 
red Baldwin in two pieces and placed them 
on the log. Just before sundown I went out 
to see what had happened and found that the 
apple had been taken. This was a good 
introduction for comradeship, and I quickly 
placed another for their palates. 

Scarcely had I turned to enter the cabin, 
when a little woodchuck darted from his 
hiding place, and devoured it. Then I took 
an apple in my hand, sat down by the hole, 
[ 46 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


held it between my fingers, and watched to 
see what he would do. 

Not more than a minute had passed when I 
heard a rustling under the floor, a little 
squeak, then the pattering of feet very near 
me. I did not dare to move or turn my head, 
though I felt certain that a baby woodchuck 
was behind me. Then I saw his nose at 
my elbow. He jumped back, then came 
closer. The apple before his nostril was a 
strong temptation, yet he could not quite trust 
the man who held it. But the temptation 
was too great. He finally came to my hand, 
drove his sharp teeth into the apple, pulled 
savagely until it slipped from my fingers, 
and then darted into his hole. 

His little brother wanted another apple 
which I held before his longing gaze, but he did 
not have the courage to take it. 

My friendship, however, with one of them 
was firmly established, and we spent many 
delightful hours nibbling luxuries and playing 
peek-a-boo over the logs. 

We would never have known that the old 
woodchucks were about the camp if we had not 
discovered them coming from their hiding after 
dark and feeding on clover about the clearing. 
[ 47 ] 


NED B R EIVS T E S 


One day Jaque, a rough Canadian French- 
man who kept watch over the camps of a 
large lumber company, not having seen a 
human being for several weeks and longing 
for companionship, walked a dozen miles 
through the woods to see us and hear the 
latest news. His dog Eli came with him, a 
very affectionate and beautiful creature, who 
always followed Jaque wherever he went. 

As we sat at supper, we heard the dog barking. 

“He got someding in de tree,” said Jaque. 
“He never bark like dat less he got someding.” 

We rushed from the cabin and found that 
the dog had brought a monstrous woodchuck 
to bay. The dog was making a great noise, 
but it was evident that he had no special desire 
to rush in and attack the woodchuck, who had 
turned upon him, snapping vengeance from 
his eyes and defying the dog to approach. I 
never thought so much fury could be wrapped 
in so small a body as was expressed in the 
attitude of that animal. Even the approach 
of the men did not cause him to run. He 
never took his eyes from the dog, but stood 
ready for a fight to the finish. 

I crept near and snapped one picture which 
showed the eyes, the teeth, and even the hair 
[ 48 ] 



Eli had a Woodchuck at Bay. Page 48 . 










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BEAR HUNT 


of the creature, declaring destruction if any 
one dared to approach. 

“No care have dead dog,” said Jaque, as 
he caught Eli by the collar and led him away. 

“That is what you surely would have,” said 
Mose, as Jaque led Eli into the cabin. 

The woodchuck did not offer to run. He 
stood facing us, defying each man as he had 
the dog. 

“Knock him over with a club,” said Mose. 
“The old brute would bite a leg off if he made 
for us.” 

But I interfered just as Mose lifted a stick to 
hurl at the woodchuck’s head. I did not 
want the family to leave the camp and knew it 
would do so if one was injured. 

As we turned back toward the cabin, we met 
Jaque coming out with a steel trap in his hand. 

“I catch ’im,” said Jaque. “He good to 
eat. Dead chuck no hurt dog.” 

Jaque went to an old, tumbled-down 
hovel, under a corner of which we had seen 
the woodchuck run, and carefully set the 
trap. It was a free country where every 
man had a right to trap or hunt as he chose, 
and as Jaque had been there much longer than 
our party, I felt that we had no ground for 
[ 49 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


protest. We could control our own guides, but 
Jaque was beyond our command. 

Early next morning, before starting over the 
tote road back to his camp, Jaque went to the 
trap to see if he had caught the woodchuck 
during the night. 

The chain was tight. Something had stepped 
into the trap and pulled it far down into the 
hole. Jaque gave it a pull, but it was firm. 

“He has not been there long,” said George, 
“or he would have gnawed his foot off.” 

“Wlien they first get in a trap,” added 
Mose, “they brace themselves and pull with all 
their might. If they cannot break loose, then 
they bite the foot off just above the joint.” 

“You are sure of a woodchuck,” continued 
George. “When they find they cannot break 
the trap and pull away, they drag it to the 
hole, fill the opening with dirt, and then think 
they are safe.” 

“Me quick get ’im out,” declared Jaque, 
as he took the chain, braced himself, and gave 
a quick jerk. 

Ye gods ! It was a skunk 

Mose jumped and knocked George ten feet 
in the brush. I fell over a log and skinned 
my shins. 


[ 50 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


“Ough ! Le Diable !” shouted Jaque, hurl- 
ing skunk and trap into the woods. 

He rushed to the brook, plunged into the 
pool, scrubbed his face vigorously, and rubbed 
and tore at his hair. 

But it was no use. The skunk had done 
his work thoroughly. The pungent perfume 
was not only in Jaque’s clothes, but in the 
pores of his skin, in his hair and nose and 
eyes. It made him sick at his stomach, 
and he rolled on the ground and frothed at 
the mouth, uttering many phrases in French 
which I could not understand and which I 
am sure could not have gone into this story, 
had I known their meaning. 

He had to take off his clothes and bury them 
in the earth before life was tolerable either for 
him or us. We put dry grass and brush over 
the ground for several feet about the hole 
where the trap had been set, made a big fire 
and burned into the earth before we could 
destroy the odor. 

We dressed Jaque in another suit and in 
the afternoon sent him up the tote road for 
home, his dog trotting ahead of him, as 
though there was still a suggestion of the odor 
left behind. 


[ 51 ] 


BREIVS TER^S 


CHAPTER FIVE 

MOLLY, OUR PACK ANIMAL 

IFE in the woods is not all play. 



There is a very large amount of hard 


M ^ work mingled with the pleasure of 
such an outing as we were to enjoy. 

We had discovered this during the year we 
had spent on the Miramichi. Long tramps 
over the trails, with packs varying from fifty 
to one hundred and fifty pounds strapped on 
our backs, involved labor which could be 
endured only by men accustomed to severe 
toil. My load was usually about fifty pounds, 
and when the tramp was a long one, it always 
seemed like five hundred pounds before night. 

As our driver started back to the settlement 
with the horses, leaving us alone in the big 
woods without a vehicle to carry our loads, 
we groaned to think of the burdens under 
which we would be compelled to stagger 
before our vacation was completed. Our 
plan involved a constant moving from place 


BEAR HUNT 


to place, and as there were few navigable 
waterways in the region where we were to 
spend most of our time, we would be com- 
pelled to carry our entire camp outfit on our 
backs. 

“We are beasts of burden from this time 
until our trip is over,” said dad, as the horses 
were lost from our sight, and the rattle of the 
wagon grew dim in the distance. 

“Why not catch a moose and make a 
pack animal of it ?” I asked. 

Mose laughed at the idea, but it seemed 
to impress dad more favorably. 

“Don’t see why that is not a workable 
idea, Mose,” said dad, seeing that Mose took 
it only as a huge joke. 

Mose was a woodsman and had been accus- 
tomed always to carry his burdens on his 
strong back. But dad had spent his early 
life on the plains and was used to lassoing a 
wild bronco and breaking it to the saddle. 

“I do not see why it would be any more 
difficult,” he continued, “to capture a moose 
and break it to the pack than to lasso a wild 
horse and break it to ride. A moose would 
surrender after he found we were his masters, 
just as a horse or any other animal does.” 
[ 53 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


“You remember,” I added, “that James 
Capen Adams, the great hunter of California, 
made a pack animal of his grizzly bear. Old 
‘Ben Franklin’ was a famous bear, carrying 
the camp supplies of Adams through the 
Sierra Nevada Mountains and part of the 
Rockies.” 

Mose stood looking at me, grinning as 
though he thought I had either lost my mind 
or else was trying to surpass any bear story 
that had been told around the camp fire. 

“That is a fact, Mose,” added dad, seeing 
the skeptical mind of our guide. “Surely it 
would be easier to make a pack animal of a 
moose than a bear.” 

Mose took his pipe, hammered it against a 
log to knock out the old ashes, and walked 
away as though we were hopeless cases. 

When Mose left us, we began immediately to 
plan the capture of a moose. 

“If we could lasso a young cow, she would 
break easier than a bull,” said dad. “Bulls 
are treacherous beasts.” 

“How could we capture one without hurting 
her.^” I asked. 

“That is easy,” replied dad. “Take her 
in a snare.” 


[ 54 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


“I saw a young cow feeding in a pond, half 
a mile below here,” I suggested. 

“Probably she has a runway where she 
comes regularly to the lake,” added dad. 
“We can set a snare so the cow will walk into 
it. By attaching it to a tree that will bend 
and is still strong enough to hold her, she can 
flounder about in the mud without doing her- 
self any harm. Then we can throw other 
ropes on her, and three of us can control her 
without any difficulty.” 

That seemed very easy indeed, and we 
started preparations. Mose came along as 
though he was following two lunatics, but 
when he saw we were setting the snares and 
realized that we were in earnest, he began 
to enter into the undertaking. He had seen 
many Indians set snares for moose and knew 
more about it than either of us. So he took 
the ropes and soon had a good snare made for 
the flrst cow that came down the trail. 

We took our position in the brush about a 
hundred yards away to watch. We had been 
in waiting only a short time when a huge 
bull walked down the runway, making directly 
for our snare. 

“He’ll catch one of his horns in that snare 
[ 55 ] 


NED BREIVS TER^ S 


and break it all to pieces,” said Mose, at the 
same time springing out of the hiding place to 
frighten the moose away. 

“His horns are in velvet and still very soft,” 
added dad, as we saw the bull run away, the 
blades of his horns shaking as he ran. 

Nothing in the woods is more interesting 
than the growth of the antlers of these great 
monarchs. Though they may grow until they 
have a spread of seventy inches, indeed, 
seem like a brush pile on the top of the 
animal’s head, they are shed every year. In 
January, usually, they fall off and they begin 
to grow in March. At first there is only a 
little round knob on the top of the head. This 
grows longer and longer, branching into 
points and fiattening out into blades, remain- 
ing until the last of July a pliable substance. 
Then they are easily broken or injured so 
they will have an unnatural growth. This is 
the reason Mose was so anxious that the 
bull should not become entangled in the 
snare and spoil what, in the fall, might be a 
magnificent pair of antlers for the hunter. 

In August these antlers begin to harden into 
bone, and, by the last of this month, they not 
only have their growth, but are as hard as 
[ 56 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


rocks. Then the moose scrape off the velvet 
with which the antlers have been covered 
during their growth, and those great horns are 
for a few days as white as snow ; but, imme- 
diately the velvet is off, the creatures scrape 
them against alders and willows until they 
are beautifully stained a rich, reddish brown 
color. 

It was several hours before another moose 
came. Indeed, we were about to give up the 
watch for that day, remove the snare, and 
return to camp, when we saw a young cow 
walking cautiously down the runway. 

She walked straight into the trap, the tree 
flew into place, and the noose drew tight about 
her neck. She gave a terrible jump straight 
forward and tumbled over on her back as 
she came to the end of her rope. 

“Now you can have all the fun you want,” 
said Mose. 

I never saw such floundering and kicking in 
the mud. She was first on her feet, then 
on her back, in such rapid succession that I 
thought the poor creature would break every 
bone in her body. 

“Put a rope over her front leg,” shouted 
dad, “then we can throw her if she gets the 
[ 57 ] 


NED BREWS TER^ S 


better of us. One more round her neck for 
Ned, and I’ll take the one from the tree.” 

Dad climbed the small tree and unloosed the 
rope. The first thing I knew I was shooting 
through the air and landed squarely in a mud- 
hole, where I sank nearly out of sight. As 
I looked up, the cow was turning a somersault. 
Mose had tightened the rope on her front leg 
and had thrown her as she ran. Dad seized 
his rope, and I had mine again before she was 
on her feet. 

The struggle continued for more than an 
hour. Dad took a half hitch with his rope 
round a tree. That was the only thing that 
saved us. She would have broken away from 
us in spite of the rope about her front leg, 
if dad had not secured his line about a 
spruce and held her tightly. 

‘‘She’s giving in,” said Mose, as the cow 
ceased her struggles. 

“Any wild beast will when they once see that 
man is their master,” replied dad. “We will 
have to change that knot on her neck so it will 
not choke her. Then we can tie her to a tree.” 

Mose seemed to think the victory was 
entirely won and immediately began to adjust 
the knot as dad had suggested. 

[ 58 ] 



Molly, our Pack Animal. Page 58 . 


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BEAR HUNT 


The cow struck at him with her front foot, 
just caught the pocket of his coat and ripped 
it out. 

Mose jumped back as though he had been 
shot, his face turning as white as snow. 

“Some fight in her yet, Mose !” exclaimed 
dad. 

Mose looked volumes, but said nothing. 

“We will get a rope about the other front 
leg and then tie them both before we try to 
change the knot,” said dad. 

That made the task very simple, and we 
soon had her tied securely to a tree so she 
could do herself no harm. For two days 
we left her in this place, taking her food and 
water, and showing her every kindness we 
could. At the end of the first day, dad was 
able to stroke her long, ugly nose and even 
her shoulders, but we were very careful to 
keep out of reach of her long hind legs. The 
second day she seemed resigned to her condi- 
tion and showed no signs of nervousness 
when we approached her nor any desire to 
strike or kick. 

“The hardest task is before us,” said Mose. 
“How will we ever teach her to lead on the 
rope 


[ 59 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


“That’s easy,” replied dad. “Just put the 
rope in her mouth, take a half hitch around 
her lower jaw, and she will have to come or 
leave her jaw behind.” 

It was not quite as easy as dad had thought. 
The minute the cow was released from the 
tree and Mose started to pull on the rope, 
she reared on her hind legs, began to strike 
furiously with her front feet and pull back 
with the strength of a dozen men. 

“Slack the rope and let her tumble over 
backwards,” cried dad. 

As she lurched back, Mose suddenly released 
the rope, and she tumbled in a heap, then 
sprang to her feet, and whirled to run away. 
Dad seized the rope with Mose, and together 
they gave her a jerk which brought her 
to a quick stop that seemed to surprise even 
the moose. She stood looking at us, her 
eyes flaming vengeance, and her mane bristling 
in defiance. 

“Go behind her and hit her a whack,” said 
Mose. “See if she will come along.” 

I gently tapped her with a long pole, and 
she moved forward. Dad and Mose held a 
tight rope, and together we kept her going 
until we were half way to camp Then what 
[ 60 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


we expected seemed to dawn upon her, and 
with only an occasional rebellious moment 
she led as easily as a horse accustomed to 
the halter. 

By the close of the next day, we could lead 
her any place. She was so reconciled to her 
new life that it was difficult to imagine that 
within less than a week she had been a wild 
beast, mortally afraid of man, and when at- 
tacked ready to fight for her life. 

We made a long girdle of sacks and laces of 
small rope to bind blankets and camp materials 
on her back when we went on our cruises. 
This process was so gradual that Molly, as we 
named her, did not realize what was being 
done and did not rebel. After a few days 
of this quiet work, we were able to pack a 
big load on her back and lead her through 
the woods. We had solved the problem of 
carrying our heavy burdens and could look 
forward with more pleasure to our vacation. 


[ 61 ] 


NED B REirS TER^ S 


CHAPTER SIX 

FLASHLIGHTING A BEAR 

T he Alberton Lumber Company had 
camps scattered all though the region 
where we were spending our vacation. 
From the early spring until the late fall 
these camps were deserted except by one man, 
who was left to care for the property. This 
keeper was usually some Canadian Frenchman 
who loved the solitary woods and passed 
his time in the hunt or roaming through the 
forest. As a rule he was a sober and reliable 
man who could be trusted with some re- 
sponsibility. His chief work was to keep a 
keen watch for fires and to protect the camp 
supplies from irresponsible wanderers through 
the woods. 

A few miles from our cabins was a camp 
under the care of Levesque, a young French- 
man well known to Mose, who had some- 
times guided with him during the fall, when 
the hunters came from the cities. 

[ 6 ^] 


BEAR HUNT 


“Let’s go over and see Levesque,” Mose 
suggested one day, as we sat about the camp 
fire. 

His camp lay in a country through which 
we had not traveled, and as dad was anxious 
to explore a certain section of this territory, 
we started early the next morning, packing 
provisions enough on Molly to supply us for 
several days. We found the camp deserted. 

“Levesque is probably on a spree,” said 
Mose, as he opened the door of the cabin. 

The place looked as though he might have 
had his spree in the cabin in company with 
a dozen other drunken wretches. It was 
the worst looking sight I had ever seen. 
Blankets were scattered over the floor, the 
cans and kettles were thrown about and dented 
and twisted as though they had been through a 
storm at sea. Lard, bacon, and salt pork 
were mixed with tea and coffee, and the 
whole place, with everything in it, was 
smeared with dirty, black molasses. 

“The work of a bear,” said Mose, as he 
looked about. 

“The work of drunken fools,” replied dad. 
“This is what the company pays for irrespon- 
sible men.” 


[ 63 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


“There is a track which tells the story,” 
declared Mose. 

Sure enough, the marks of a bear whose foot 
had been smeared with molasses could be 
seen distinctly on the floor. Mose followed 
the marks out through the brush to the brook 
where the huge footprints could be plainly 
seen in the soft earth. 

“These black bear are the most destructive 
creatures to camps we have in the woods,” 
said Mose. “I have known them to go into a 
cabin and destroy everything in it when the 
men had gone only a short distance to chop 
wood.” 

“How do you make that square with the 
fact that they are the most timid animals we 
have ?” asked dad. 

“They are crazy after molasses,” replied 
Mose. ‘‘They will run almost any risk to get 
it. Young pigs and sweets are the two 
things for which they would risk their lives.” 

“They surely do not get many pigs !” 
I exclaimed. “I have not seen any in this 
country.” 

“The only way you can raise pigs is to 
stand over them with a rifle,” answered Mose. 
“People in this region gave up trying long 
[ 64 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


ago. A bear will slip in and steal them in 
spite of all you can do.” 

‘‘But, Mose, this bear will come back again, 
don’t you think so ? ” I asked. 

“It looks as though he was here last night,” 
replied Mose. “If he was, he will return 
again to-night.” 

“ Then here is a great chance for a flash- 
light of a bear,” I declared. “You go back to 
the camp and get the outfit for flashlighting, 
while dad and I arrange for the picture.” 

“You talk as though it was an easy matter,” 
said dad. “How do you think you will 
manage it .^ ” 

“That’s easy,” I replied. “It is the molas- 
ses he is after. We will hide in one corner 
of the room until he comes through the door ; 
then we will flash him.” 

Mose laughed boisterously. 

“Thought you had learned more about 
bear than that !” he exclaimed. “Why, a 
bear would smell you before he came within 
fifty feet of the cabin.” 

“Then we will catch him outside of the 
cabin as he approaches,” I answered. “It 
would be better, anyway, to have the woods 
as a background for our picture.” 

[ 65 ] 


NED B REIVS T E S 


Mose agreed to this and started back to the 
cabins for the flashlight pan and powder, while 
dad and I began to make arrangements for 
the night. We first cleaned the cabin so we 
could walk without stepping in molasses, 
and then proceeded to arrange for cooking and 
eating and making a place to sleep. 

“You will have a great background for your 
picture,” said dad, as he stood in the door of 
the cabin, looking out on the probable ap- 
proach of the bear. “It is a wild-looking 
place, a natural home for these creatures.” 

We chose what we thought the most 
desirable spot for the picture, smeared molas- 
ses over the ground, and placed the barrel in 
good position. 

Just before sunset, Mose returned, and we 
sat about the table to eat our first meal since 
morning. 

“ Can’t tell when this critter will come,” said 
Mose. “He may be here soon after dark, and 
he may not come until nearly break of day.” 

We took our positions just before dark. 
The camera was set, ready for quick action. 
The flashlight was arranged over the door, so 
the easy pull of the string would explode the 
cap. 


[66] 


BEAR HUNT 


It was my first experience waiting after 
dark for a bear. I had often been in the canoe 
flashlighting, but I soon found it was quite 
another thing to sit down in a dense forest 
and wait for Bruin. On the lake everything 
was still, and there was a sense of security in 
being surrounded by water. But here every- 
thing was noise. The mice chased one another 
over the beams of the cabin. Every log in 
the walls resounded under the drilling of the 
borers. We all fairly jumped from our seats 
when a great horned owl rent the night air 
over our heads with his awful hoot. 

Then the brush outside of the cabin was full 
of strange sounds. I had my hand on the 
string most of the time, ready to pull, thinking 
the bear was about to step into the open. 
Mice, rabbits, porcupines, mink, weasels, 
were traveling everywhere, until it seemed 
in the stillness of the night as though hundreds 
of huge animals were running about. Once 
we thought the bear was surely coming. 
There was so much noise in the brush that we 
were certain no small animal could be making 
it. Then there was a sudden snorting of a 
deer, which bounded from the brush into 
the woods. 


[ 67 ] 


NED BREfVS TER’ S 


“This would give a fellow nervous prostra- 
tion,” I whispered to dad, as the deer ran away. 

“It is rather strenuous,” he replied under 
his breath. 

“What is that exclaimed Mose. 

His keen ear had caught a sound. 

We listened for a minute, and then heard 
something like a human voice. 

“Levesque’s returning,” said Mose. 

Presently we could hear his footsteps. He 
was staggering along as though the spree had 
left him weak in his legs, and the song he was 
trying to sing did not indicate much strength 
in his head. 

We were just standing to greet Levesque on 
his return home, when my foot in some way 
became entangled in the long string attached 
to my flashpan and set it off. 

The forest was a sheet of light. 

Levesque was not more than fifty feet from 
the flash. He staggered and fell over back- 
wards, then jumped to his feet, and ran round 
and round in a circle. His hands were over 
his eyes, and he was yelling in the most pitiable 
tones. 

“Levesque !” shouted Mose, fearing the 
fellow had gone crazy. 

[ 68 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


The shout only added to Levesque’s fright, 
and he started up the road, falling over rocks 
and logs, crying with every step : “Le Diable ! 
Le Diable !” 

Mose started after him, but hearing foot- 
steps, Levesque redoubled his pace. 

It was an awful thing to have happened. 
Levesque had never seen a flashlight in his 
life, and probably had never heard of one. 
When that sheet of flame rose before him, his 
superstitious mind naturally thought the whole 
infernal region had been turned loose on him. 
I never saw dad so angry over anything, and 
Mose was so provoked that he would not even 
speak. Neither knew the thing was an acci- 
dent, and in the excitement, I had no chance to 
explain it. 

“If he does not break his neck, he will surely 
break a leg, running this dark night,” said 
dad. “It is up to us to take a light and go 
after him.” 

Mose started ahead with a lantern. We 
stumbled along over roots and rocks, even 
aided as we were by the light. How Levesque 
ever ran in the darkness I do not see. Dad 
kept up a continual tirade against my act, 
while I followed along behind, trying to ex- 
[ 69 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


plain how it happened, but without making 
much impression. 

Every little way we could see where 
Levesque had stumbled and fallen in a mud- 
hole. His tracks were far apart, indicating 
that he had never stopped running. We 
followed them until nearly daybreak. Still 
they led on toward the settlement. 

“He thinks the devil is after him,” said 
Mose, “and he’ll never stop till he reaches the 
clearing, when some one will catch him.” 

We saw there was no use to go farther. 
Mose took out his pipe, filled it with strong 
tobacco, and lighted it, as we turned back 
toward camp. 

“I’d shoot a man and do it with a clear 
conscience if he played a trick like that on me,” 
said Mose, as he threw the burning match 
in the path and tramped it into the mud 
as though he thought that was the next best 
thing to tramping on me. It was the first time 
I had ever heard Mose utter a cross word, 
and it made me feel worse than ever. 

To our great surprise the bear had come for 
the molasses while we were away and had 
rolled the barrel some distance from the cabin. 

“What do you think of this !” exclaimed 
[ 70 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


Mose, the first to discover the visit of the 
bear. “You couldn’t keep that fellow away 
from here with a dozen men.” 

Being weary from our night watch and our 
long chase after Levesque, we hurriedly fried 
some potatoes and bacon and then threw 
ourselves in our blankets for a rest and 
sleep. 

It was late in the afternoon before we 
awakened. The cabin was hot and stuffy 
under the burning sun, and the smell from 
the steaming molasses was terrible. We 
rushed to the brook for a plunge in a cold pool 
to bring back some of the vigor of life and to 
make possible an appetite for an evening 
meal. Before darkness began to settle over 
the forest, we had arranged the barrel for 
another picture and had taken our places 
for the long watch. 

I was more nervous than I had been the 
previous night, being afraid that I would 
fire the flash again at the wrong time and 
complete my disgrace. There seemed to be 
more noise than ever about the cabin, and 
the many creepy sounds from the woods 
almost made me wish we had not undertaken 
the business of flashlighting a bear. 

[ 71 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


At eleven o’clock a big black creature 
walked from the brush and moved in the 
direction of the barrel. I had my hand on 
the string and was just about to pull when 
Mose whispered : “Porcupine.” 

Sure enough, it was a big, black, male 
hedgehog, which in the darkness seemed as 
large as a small bear. In a second more I 
would have had his picture. 

The hours passed slowly, and we were just 
about to conclude that our watch was useless 
for that night, when Mose laid his hand on 
my shoulder. 

“Bear in the brush,” he whispered. 

Mose had caught a step familiar to his ear, 
but neither dad nor I could detect it. 

Presently there was a crack of a twig. My 
heart almost stopped beating. It seemed 
hours before there was another sound. Then 
I saw Mose pointing to a small opening in 
the brush. Sure enough, there was the head 
of a bear looking out of the leaves in the moon- 
light. 

“Calm, now!” whispered Mose, as his 
hand touched my shoulder again. “Wait 
until he walks to the barrel.” 

Once I had seen the bear, I was as calm as 
[ 72 ] 



Bruin Trotted to the Molasses Barrel. Page 73. 








BEAR HUNT 


though I had been watching birds under a 
pine tree. 

He was a three-year-old bear, but in the 
darkness he looked like a monster that would 
weigh five hundred pounds. He stood fully 
twenty minutes at the edge of the brush 
before he ventured out, looked carefully over 
every foot of ground about the cabin, his 
nose lifted to catch any telltale scent which a 
current of air might bring. Finally he walked 
back into the brush. 

“He has smelled us,” whispered Mose. 
“The gig’s up for to-night.” 

Scarcely were the words spoken, when Bruin 
walked into the open as though he had no fear 
of danger and trotted to the molasses barrel 
to play with it a little while before he satisfied 
his taste for sweets. He put his front feet 
on it and began to roll it about, starting the 
barrel toward us and in a minute more would 
have been in the cabin. 

“Fire !” whispered Mose. 

The light filled the sky, and the bear 
tumbled over backwards. His eyes were 
toward the flash and temporarily blinded by 
the light. He jumped to his feet and plunged 
head first into an old stump, tumbling in a 
[ 73 ] 


NED B REIVS T E S 


heap from the blow. He sprang to his feet 
again and started toward the cabin. Before 
we could think what was happening, he had 
passed through the door and had run full 
speed against the stove, knocking it to one 
side and causing the stovepipes to tumble, 
making a terrible noise. Several tin pans 
were knocked over, which added to the fearful 
sounds. 

“Get out of here yelled Mose. 

“Hough ! Hough !” snorted the bear, more 
frightened by the discovery that he had 
company. 

“Hay !” shouted dad, as the bear ran into 
him and knocked him sprawling on the floor. 

“Give him all the room he wants to reach 
the door,” exclaimed Mose. 

“He wants all the room,” answered dad. 
“That’s the trouble.” 

The bear was so blind he could not even 
see daylight, hence he could not find the exit. 

I started to run across the cabin and climb 
upon the bunks, when he ran between my legs 
and laid me fiat. Finally we all reached the 
bunks, and as the bear’s sight began to return, 
he darted for the door and away into the 
woods. 


[ 74 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


CHAPTER SEVEN 

THE OLD BEAR AND HER CUBS 

D ad and I had discovered a large 
beaver colony of unusual interest. A 
dam three or four hundred feet in 
length had been built by successive genera- 
tions of the beavers, and a veritable beaver 
palace had been erected on a small island in 
the center of the pond. We had accidentally 
stumbled upon it just before sunset, as we were 
hurrying to reach camp on our way back from 
Levesque’s cabin. The trout were jumping 
in such numbers for flies playing over its calm 
surface that it was easy to believe the pond to 
be crowded with the speckled beauties. Dad 
remarked, as we hurriedly passed along, 
that he had never seen such a sight in his 
fishing experiences. 

The next day we returned with rod and line 
to tempt them with our artificial flies and fill 
our kreel with the choice ones. In half an 
[ 75 ] 


NED B REIVS T E S 


hour we had taken all we needed and had sat 
down in a little nook, carpeted with moss and 
hidden away by the overhanging branches 
of a balsam. It was an ideal place to watch 
for game, and we waited to see what might 
steal out of the brush. 

The only thing to break the silence of the 
great forest, as we waited for more than an 
hour, was the rattle of the kingfisher, who, 
from his watchtower, the stump of an old 
pine, plunged into the pond, murdering the 
small fish and eating them with a savage 
delight. 

The atmosphere was hot. The mosquitoes 
were attacking every inch of skin within 
reach of their long bills. The only signs of 
life in the sultry silence was the impatient 
blows with which we tried to crush our per- 
secutors. 

“Bear!” whispered dad. 

An old black bear, the largest one we had 
seen in the woods, emerged without a sound 
out of the shadows of the forest on the opposite 
side of the pond and started to walk across 
the beaver dam. Two small cubs came 
stumbling awkwardly at her heels, yet without 
a sound. They seemed to feel that they were 
[ 76 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


in the open and that silence was their only 
safety. 

We were not more than fifty feet from the 
beaver dam, but fortunately the wind was 
blowing in our direction. We were also well 
concealed in the brush, so they probably 
would not detect us unless they turned and 
came toward our nook. 

When they were at about the middle of 
the dam, the old mother stopped, stuck her 
muzzle into the air, and turned her head 
first one way then another, sniffing to detect 
any telltale scent which might reach her sensi- 
tive nose. One little cub made himself ridicu- 
lous as he tried to imitate his mother. He 
seemed to feel that the entire responsibility 
for the safe passage over that dam rested upon 
his little back. 

They came leisurely toward us, the old 
bear stopping every little way to sniff, until 
they stood within a few feet of us. For- 
tunately we had not been on the dam to leave 
any scent, and they were perfectly unconscious 
that there was a living creature within miles 
of them. I verily believe that if we had given 
one long, quick jump, we could have seized 
both of the cubs before they could have started. 
[ 77 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


They stood in front of us not more than a 
minute, but it seemed hours. We scarcely 
dared to breathe, lest we should reveal our 
presence. It is a wonder to me that they did 
not hear my heart beat ; I am sure it never 
thumped so hard in all my life. It was hard 
to subdue my breathing, I was so nervous. 

Not more than two hundred yards from the 
beaver dam a patch of bushes hung heavily 
with the most delicious raspberries that ever 
delighted the palate of Bruin. It was for this 
berry patch that the mother was going. 

A short distance from where we sat, the old 
bear stopped, looked up into the branches of 
a large tree, cast a few searching glances 
through the woods to make sure no enemy 
was near, then gently lifted one of her cubs 
with her huge paw, placed it at the base of the 
tree, and gave it a quick poke with her nose. 
As a model of childish obedience, the little fel- 
low climbed nimbly hand over hand to the first 
branch. The other cub was not so quick to re- 
spond to parental commands, but after a little 
urging and a cuff or two, both the little fellows 
were jumping and playing among the branches, 
as boys and girls play tag about the gardens. 

‘‘They will not come down,” said dad, 
[ 78 ] 



A Short Distance from where we sat, the Old Bear Stopped. Page 78 . 








BEAR HUNT 


‘‘until the old bear returns for them. Once 
they are put up a tree, they will stay there 
until they are called.” 

I had great doubt of the obedience of these 
active youngsters, but was glad to agree with 
dad, notwithstanding the torture we were 
receiving from the mosquitoes, that it was the 
chance of a lifetime to study the habits of a 
bear family, and that we would better take 
our punishment and wait to see what would 
happen. 

“They must be about five months old,” 
whispered dad, as we watched the little 
fellows frolicking about the tree tops. 

“Five months,” I exclaimed. “They can’t 
be more than a month. They’re not larger 
than a house cat now; rather small for a 
month, it seems to me.” 

Dad smiled one of those withering smiles 
which grow out of pity for a fellow’s ignorance, 
but quickly controlled himself and kindly 
started to set me right on the history of the 
bear family. 

“Guess you have never read the life history 
of a cub bear 

“Nothing, except the stories you get in a lot 
of boys’ books,” I replied. 

[ 79 ] 


NED BRE^VS TER ’5 


“Huh !” sneered dad, “they are the things 
that have made poor Bruin so little under- 
stood.” 

“Well, anyway, dad, this bear has not been 
out of her den more than three months, so the 
cubs could not be any older than two months.” 

“That is where you make your mistake. 
The cubs are born a month or six weeks 
before the old bear comes from her winter 
quarters. At first they are no larger than 
small kittens, and blind, just like the little 
kittens we had at home.” 

“You don’t mean to say that a bear, an 
animal weighing four or five hundred pounds, 
has a cub as small as a kitten !” I exclaimed. 

“That is one of nature’s wonderful arrange- 
ments. You see the old bear has been housed 
for several weeks with nothing to eat. She 
simply lives on the fat which she stores up 
during the summer and fall. If she had to 
nurse two large, hungry cubs, it would be 
impossible. She could not give them enough 
to eat, and they would soon exhaust her.” 

“Couldn’t she go out and gather food I 
asked. 

“Not at this season of the year. The cubs 
are born the last of February or the first of 
[ 80 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


March. The snow is deep, and the bear 
could find nothing to eat. But these cubs 
are so tiny they do not require much food. 
The old bear has enough nourishment stored 
up in her own body to provide them food 
for six weeks ; at the end of which time the 
family comes from the winter den to forage 
through the forest, from which the snow has 
melted.” 

Dad’s story was interrupted, as we caught 
sight of one cub which had climbed into the 
fork of the tree and had lain down on his back. 
He was a comical sight, so much so that we 
both smiled as we saw him lying in a ray 
of sunshine which came through the branches 
and happened to strike just where he rested. 
His legs were sprawled out, and his head hung 
down over a limb, every muscle in his body 
seeming to be relaxed, a perfect picture of 
comfort. I had seen my puppy lie in just 
that position many times, sprawled out on the 
library floor. It seems to be the greatest 
luxury of the animal world, and this cub was 
making the most of his enjoyment. 

Then, quick as lightning, the other cub, 
as though jealous of his brother’s comfort, 
shot down one of the limbs and landed directly 
[ 81 ] 


NED BREIVS TER^ S 


on top of him. They both lost their balance, 
and in an instant were rolling through the air, 
crashing into a pile of dry brush at the foot of 
the trees. They made a great racket. The 
mother heard it and came hurrying down the 
trail to discover the cause of the trouble. 

She was annoyed beyond any reasonable 
bear patience when she discovered what had 
really happened. One little fellow seemed to 
know what to expect and scampered up the 
tree beyond the reach of the mother’s big paw. 
The other cub was not so quick and received 
several cuffs before he could escape her blows. 

“Let’s capture the cubs, dad,” I suggested. 

“How do you think you could do it.^” 
asked dad, in a whisper. 

“Wait until the old bear goes back to the 
berry patch, then climb the tree and seize the 
little fellows and wrap them in our coats.” 

“And what do you think would be happen- 
ing to us all this time ? ” 

“Surely the old bear could not get us. 
They say a bear can only climb a tree she can 
hug. This tree is too small for her to climb.” 

“You have been reading about grizzlies,” 
said dad. “Remember these are black bears. 
They can run up a tree like a squirrel, any 
[82] 


BEAR HUNT 


tree big enough to hold their weight. If we 
went up that tree, Mose would find only boots 
and hats to tell the story of our departure.” 

That gave a new phase to the whole plot. 
We had no gun with us. We had even left 
our camera behind, the thing which always 
happens when you have the best chance for 
pictures. There was nothing left for us to do 
but wait in our blind and learn what we could 
about their habits. 

‘‘There is a lot of foolish talk about bears,” 
said dad, as he saw the old mother trotting 
back to the berry patch. “So many imagi- 
nary stories have been written that people 
have really been fed upon what is not true.” 

“She is not so sure that the cubs will stay up 
the tree as she was when she went away the 
first time,” I said, as I saw her turn and look 
back to see if they were obeying. 

“People have an idea,” continued dad, 
“that a bear goes into a den in winter and 
passes into a sleepy, sluggish state until she 
comes out in the spring.” 

“They must be in almost that condition 
or they would get pains in their stomachs 
without eating,” I suggested. 

“It is true they are not very active,” 
[ 83 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


replied dad, “and they do sleep a great deal, 
but they are very far from being sluggish. I 
remember very well a trip I took through 
the mountains of Colorado when I was quite a 
young fellow. There was about two feet of 
snow on the ground. We were on snow-shoes, 
and I was running along ahead. Suddenly I 
felt the whole earth begin to move under me. 
The snow rose right up. I went crashing 
through into a hollow place beneath, and just 
in front of me a great black bear lunged out of 
the snow and went like a cyclone down the side 
of the mountain.” 

“I suppose you thought she was far from 
being sluggish about that time,” I exclaimed, 
almost forgetting the cubs were so near us. 

“They are often frightened from their dens 
in winter, and sometimes, on a nice warm day, 
they come out of their own accord. If you 
should suddenly frighten one, you would never 
know but what he had been active all winter.” 

“But how do they find dens enough.^” I 
asked. “I never see many dens as we walk 
about the woods.” 

“Well, now, there is another false notion 
people have of black bear,” said dad. “The 
nice book pictures Bruin in a great cave, 
[ 84 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


which extends far back in the rocks, with three 
or four ways of entering, and some man 
creeping in with a lighted torch in one hand 
and a great knife in the other, risking his life, 
as he makes his way into the dark place to 
take the bear.” 

“That is just the way they all read,” I 
added, amused quite as much by the descrip- 
tion dad made with his hands as by his 
words. 

“Now, as a matter of fact,” dad continued, 
“a bear will enter a small cave under a ledge 
of rock, if she can find such a place, but as a 
rule they find some old, uprooted tree, crawl 
under the roots, pull a few branches over 
them for protection, fill the hole with leaves 
and snow, let the first big snowstorm cover 
them thoroughly, and make that their home 
for the winter.” 

“But where do they get their water .^” I 
asked. “I supposed they usually had a cave 
with a spring of water in it.” 

Dad laughed; then quickly restrained him- 
self that he might not frighten the cubs. 

“I have seen the very picture in one of our 
books at home that gave you that idea,” he 
replied. “I suppose thousands of people 
[ 85 ] 


NED BREWS TER’ S 


have the same notion. If they needed water, 
they could eat snow, as many animals do, 
but they neither eat nor drink during their 
hibernation.” 

“What becomes of these small cubs, when 
the mother goes into her den ” I asked. 

“The grizzly bear takes her cubs with her, 
but it is seldom the black bear does,” replied 
dad. “I once found a black bear and two 
large cubs in a den in the West. Others have 
also found them together, but usually they 
separate in the fall, the cubs starting out for 
themselves.” 

“I’d think they would starve, they are so 
small.” 

“Oh, they will soon begin to eat berries and 
everything the mother eats. By fall they will 
be as fat as butter balls and will pass the 
winter fully as well as the mother.” 

Dad started. His whole body became rigid. 
He raised his hand for silence, and I knew 
there must be something unusual not far 
away. Slowly he pointed his finger toward a 
thicket below the end of the beaver dam. 

There stood another bear, his head just out 
of the brush. He pretended not to see the 
cubs in the tree. Dad told me afterwards 
[ 86 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


it was a characteristic of bears not to take any 
notice of one another. 

He was a two-year-old male bear. He 
stood for several minutes before coming from 
the brush, and then walked directly toward us. 
We thought certainly he was coming right into 
our blind. When he came to the tracks of 
the bears, he stopped, sniffed the air, then 
turned in their trail and walked directly to the 
tree where the cubs were playing. 

On the first sight of him the little fellows 
ran farther up the tree, one cub going to the 
very top branches, and both trembling and 
acting as though they were afraid of their 
lives. 

“There will be two less cubs in the woods,” 
said dad, “unless that old mother gets down 
here pretty lively. The males often eat the 
cubs.” 

He stood nervously at the foot of the tree, as 
though he felt he was on dangerous ground, 
looked all about to discover any signs of the 
mother, sniffed the air vigorously to catch 
any scent, and then looked toward the cubs 
as though he was almost persuaded to make 
his attack. 

Then a few vigorous puffs, a cracking of 
[ 87 ] 


BREIVS TER^ S 


berry bushes and dry sticks, and all we could 
see of that bear was a black streak going 
through the air as though the whole creation 
had suddenly been converted into a flying 
machine. A monoplane would have been put 
to shame had it tried to keep up with that 
two-year-old bear, as he flew down the brook 
and off through the brush. 

The old mother stood under the tree, burn- 
ing with rage, snorting and puflSng, while 
the little fellows whined and cried as they 
scampered down to the ground and trotted 
away with the mother into the thick bush. 


[ 88 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


CHAPTER EIGHT 

CHEOKHES, THE THIEF 

C HEOKHES, the mink, is probably 
better fitted than any animal of the 
woods to escape danger and to run 
from his enemies. He may feel safe, wherever 
he wanders, from the fox, the fisher, the lynx, 
or the bear. If he is closely pursued by the 
swift feet of Reynard, he can plunge into a 
pool of water, diving into it without a splash, 
and swim away as nimbly as a fish. If the 
pool is not near, he can run up a tree as 
quickly as a cat . And when both tree 
and stream are wanting, he can run into 
any hole which a rat can enter, leaving the 
fox behind with his disappointment. 

Even in an open chase there are few animals 
that can capture Cheokhes, for, while his legs 
are short, his whole body is long and flexible. 
His entire spinal column is used in running. 
He doubles himself into a hoop with every 
[ 89 ] 


NED BREIVS TER’ S 


jump and then straightens out again with 
lightning swiftness, dodging behind rocks 
and logs, shooting through grass and heavy 
brush, so that any pursuer is soon bewildered. 

I watched several mink during our year 
spent in the woods, and always found it diffi- 
cult to follow them, even with the eye. One 
beautiful autumn day, when the leaves were 
just beginning to fall on the hardwood ridges, 
I waited under a huge maple. The leaves of 
this tree were a blaze of red, and I sat ad- 
miring it and studying the various tints of the 
leaves which had been touched by the frost. 
A sudden rustling reached my ears, and I saw 
a beautiful little male mink a few rods away. 
The sun just touched his back, and the graceful 
curve of his whole body made a lovely picture 
of life and action. 

Then he seemed to sink out of sight. The 
earth appeared to open and swallow him, for 
there was no sign of a mink in any direction. 
There was not even a sound to indicate that 
the mink was moving. I felt certain that he 
must have had a hole into which he darted. 
There was no grass in which he could hide, 
only a few fallen leaves. Then I caught a 
slight movement of leaves some distance away, 
[90] 


BEAR HUNT 


and the mink darted out, took one or two quick 
bounds, and was again lost to eye and ear. 

I have been able to get near them only two 
or three times. They love to wander through 
low, wet land in the warm summer days, 
where they chase the meadow mice about 
their tiny runways, and capture the little, 
stubby-tailed creatures by the scores. I have 
at two different times found Cheokhes running 
about these mouse paths, as I suspected, 
on mischief bent. 

Once a fine specimen of a female mink, 
which I thought might have a family of 
children at home, darted across an open spot, 
all intense and alert, as though looking for 
something upon which she could spring. I 
was well hidden in a clump of brush, yet 
could see out very well in every direction. 
I squeaked like a mouse, then waited to see 
what would happen. The mink evidently 
caught the sound; for, in an amazingly short 
time, I saw her come sneaking through the 
brush, lifting her wise-looking head as though 
intent upon catching the sound. 

I waited for several minutes before repeating 
the call, to see what the mink would do. She 
appeared to know she was near the spot from 
[ 91 ] 


NED B REH^S T ER’ S 


which the mouse note had come, and that great 
caution was needed. Every sense she pos- 
sessed — nose, ears, and eyes — was called into 
service. Then she made a sudden plunge; 
there were two or three short squeaks of a 
mouse, and the mink ran away with the lifeless 
creature in her mouth. As she glided into 
the brush, I hurled a stone at her, possibly 
to relieve my own conscience more than 
anything else; for I had called the mink to 
the spot where she did her bloody work. 

A little later, I was sitting on the bank of 
a stream, after having filled my kreel with 
delicious trout. I was not looking for any 
animals, as it was the middle of the day and 
the sun was hot. But a movement of some- 
thing down the brook caught my eye, and I 
quickly saw it was a mink. He was on the 
opposite side of the stream, with his eyes 
fixed on the water, to discover the golden 
eyes of any big frog that might be sunning 
himself at the edge of the stream, or, better 
still, to spy out any luscious trout that might 
be resting in some shallow pool. 

I gave the mouse squeak again, having no 
idea that the sound would reach the ear of the 
mink. To my surprise he plunged into the 
[ 92 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


water, dived beneath the surface, and emerged 
on the bank just below where I sat. I was 
in plain sight, but the wind was blowing to- 
ward me, so he could not catch my scent. 
The situation seemed to take him by surprise, 
yet he showed no signs of fear. He sat on his 
hind legs, holding his gracefully curved body 
erect, and stared at me as much as half a 
minute. Then he slipped down, ran away a 
short distance, rose on his hind feet again, and 
watched me. I remained perfectly still, and 
the mink was bewildered to know what to 
think of me. But, not caring to investigate 
any further, he turned quietly away, trotted 
down the stream in the direction from which 
he had come, and continued his search for 
food. 

Something was playing havoc with the 
birds and their nests all about our camp. 
One night George returned from his day’s 
cruise through the woods with the report 
that he had found a nest of those “little brown 
birds.” This might have meant any one of 
fifty or more species about our camp, but to 
George all birds were brown, black, white, or 
yellow. These four colors included his classi- 
fication of practically all the birds of the forest. 
[ 93 ] 


NED B REPVS T E S 


As soon as the sun was high enough to use 
a camera, we were on our way to find the 
nest. I wanted a picture of the little birds 
and lost no time to use this opportunity. 
George led me directly to the spot and, 
stooping down, lifted carefully a twig which 
concealed the nest. Not a bird was there. 

“Something has robbed it,” said George, 
with a disappointed look in his face. 

What it was, we had no way of determining. 
There was not a track about the deserted 
home or even a feather to suggest that they 
had been devoured. The place was as desti- 
tute of signs as though every bird had grown 
strong wings in a night and sailed away. 

This experience was repeated several times. 
Every few days George or Mose would return 
from the day’s cruise with the report that some 
new nest had been discovered, but a large 
part of them were destroyed before we 
could reach the place or soon after our first 
visit. Yet there was never any sign to tell 
what had killed the birds, and no track left on 
the leaves or moss to disclose the murderer. 

One evening dad returned from a fishing 
trip down the river with his kreel filled with 
forty beautiful brook trout. They would 
[ 94 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


measure from eight to ten inches, and were so 
bright and clean that they shone like a rain- 
bow. We put them into the cold brook back 
of the camp, our great ice chest, where we 
placed our butter and everything which 
needed to be kept cool. The next morning 
there was not a trout to be found. 

“Mink!” declared Mose, as George came 
into the kitchen with the news. 

“A whole school of them, I should judge, 
by the work they have done,” replied George, 
with a tone of disgust in his voice. 

After breakfast we searched diligently for 
some sign to show in what direction the mink 
had traveled, hoping that we might trace 
him to his den and recover some of the fish, but 
he had so completely evaded us that there 
was not even a footprint on the bank. 

“They are the thieves that have been 
robbing the birds’ nests,” said Mose, as we 
made our way back to the cabin. 

“A family of young mink is the meanest 
thing about camp that we could possibly 
have,” added George. “They do not wander 
far from their mother until cold weather, 
but just hang around and steal and hunt 
birds, frogs, and mice.” 

[ 95 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


“What do they do when the cold weather 
begins ?” I asked. 

“ Oh, they get restless when the frosts come,” 
said George, “going away on long tramps, 
hunting for something to eat. They keep 
wandering farther until they are too far away 
to return to the family den at night. Then 
they sleep wherever night overtakes them, and 
the family is broken up.” 

“But it is a long time yet to cold weather,” 
declared Mose. “We must make up our 
minds to kill the pesky things or else have 
everything we put in the brook stolen.” 

“You can’t tell,” suggested George ; “there 
may be half a dozen old males around. If so, 
they would carry away salmon.” 

“Hardly that,” I declared. “Mink are 
solitary creatures, living alone, rather than in 
company.” 

“Not always,” replied Mose. “As a rule 
they do live alone. But I have many times 
seen four or five old males about one feeding 
ground. They never fight one another like 
the males of other animals, but get along 
comfortably together.” 

Whatever the group might be, they con- 
tinued their robbery. The next night we 
[ 96 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


strung twenty nice trout on a wire. Dad felt 
certain that this would hold them securely and 
guarantee us a good breakfast. The next 
morning we had twenty fish heads, but nothing 
more. Mose tramped several miles to a dam 
on the Big Dungarvin and returned with a 
dozen sea trout that would weigh from two to 
five pounds each. 

“No mink will go away with these,” em- 
phatically declared Mose, as he strung them 
on a wire and put them in the brook. 

The next morning it looked as though 
some one had ripped the big trout with a fine- 
toothed comb. In places the meat was 
stripped from the bones as clean as though it 
had been boiled, while not a piece of the 
flesh was left whole. 

“We must set some traps for the robbers or 
do without fresh fish for our breakfasts,” 
declared Mose, determined to annihilate the 
entire family. 

“If we don’t, they will soon be coming day 
and night,” added George. “They don’t wait 
for darkness. A mink eats all he wants, 
then lies down to sleep. When he awakens, 
whatever the time may be, he starts for more 
food. They are not night feeders, but go 
[ 97 ] 


NED B REIVS TER’ S 


whenever their stomachs are empty. They 
might awaken at midnight in a blinding snow- 
storm or in the middle of the day when the 
sun is bright. Whenever it is, they begin 
their hunt and do not rest until their hunger 
is satisfied.” 

These words gave me a new idea. I had 
never expected to secure the picture of a 
mink. They are such quick and keen little 
creatures that no photographer can hope 
to catch them with his camera. 

“I’d go without fish all summer if I could 
secure their picture,” I declared. 

“You can do that if you have the patience 
to wait,” said Mose. “Just keep plenty of 
fish here, and they will come for them.” 

It was a great place to secure a photograph. 
The brook flowed between two rocky walls, 
while each side was free from brush. 

“I’ll do the fishing for the bait, if you have 
the patience to wait for the mink,” dad 
generously suggested. 

In a few minutes he was off with the rod 
and line, while Mose and I started with the 
ax to cut some brush for a blind. Before 
noon an excellent hiding place was built, and a 
string of fine trout was placed in the water to 
[ 98 ] 


BEAR HUN T 


entice the mink. That night every fish was 
taken, and dad was compelled to start for 
the river again for more bait. This was 
repeated for three days, and the mink were 
coming in broad daylight to commit highway 
robbery. 

Then I thought it time to take my place in 
the blind to wait for Cheokhes. The wind 
was blowing across the brook in the direction 
of the camp. I felt certain that the mink 
would approach on the side away from the 
cabins and set my camera in that direction. 

It was about ten o’clock in the morning 
when I sat down to pit my patience against 
the mink. Two hours passed when Mose 
called for dinner. There had been no sign of 
the thief, and I left my camera as I went into 
the cabin for lunch. 

Great was my disgust when I returned and 
found that the mink had come during my 
absence, taking half of the fish. His hunger 
was certainly satisfied, and he would not re- 
turn again that day. 

The next morning a fresh supply of fish 
was placed in the brook, and I took my place 
in the blind, determined not to leave it until 
night. The first half of the day passed, and 
[ 99 ] 


NED B REIVS T E S 


there was not a sign of a mink. I could 
hear the dishes rattling in the cabin at noon 
and caught the tantalizing odor of food, 
while I munched away on a cold lunch. 

I was just eating the last sandwich when I 
heard a gentle rustling in the grass near me. 
It sounded like a mouse running over the dry 
earth. 

Not daring to move, lest it should be a 
mink, I turned my eyes slowly in the direction 
of the noise. I just caught a glimpse of the 
fine, bushy tail of Cheokhes, as he moved 
quickly behind a clump of grass. Utilizing 
this second when he was hidden from me, I 
turned my camera. His head came into view. 
Then for a minute he stopped. His two 
sharp eyes were turned squarely upon my 
blind. They seemed bright enough to pierce 
any secret, and I trembled lest he should dis- 
cover me and dart away. 

Then he ran directly toward me, until he 
was within fifteen feet of my camera, when he 
stopped. Such grace I never saw in any 
animal. He was animation from the end of 
his nose to the tip of his tail. The fine 
curve of his body, the wise, dignified position 
of his head, and the beauty of his tail made a 
[ 100 ] 



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•■.'Si>iJ 


BEAR HUNT 


picture to defy the artists. Then he moved a 
little. 

I knew I must snap his picture or never 
secure it. Scarcely had my camera clicked 
when he vanished. Where he went, I could 
not tell. I am certain there was no hole 
near him, no water into which he could dive, 
no tree he could climb. Yet like vapor he 
disappeared, and I had only the negative to 
convince me that a mink had really been so 
near. 


[ 101 ] 


NED BREPVS TER’ S 


CHAPTER NINE 

ESCAPADES IVITH PORCUPINES 

“TI’THY is it, Ned,” asked dad, as we 
m/ \/ about the camp fire, “that 

T f you have not a single picture of a 
porcupine ?” 

It then occurred to me that I had never 
snapped the camera at one of these Canadian 
quillpigs, as they are locally known. The 
probable reason was that they are chiefiy 
night feeders, and I had never taken the 
trouble to seek out one in the daylight, though 
I am sure I had passed hundreds of them in 
my tramps through the woods. Possibly 
they were so common that I felt I could take 
their pictures at any time, with the result that 
the time for action had never come. 

“There is one back of my cabin,” said Mose, 
“that I’d like to snap with a gun instead of a 
camera. He awakens me every night, whining 
and gnawing the logs.” 

[ 102 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


‘‘I hear him now !” exclaimed George. 
‘‘He’s out there in the brush.” 

We listened a minute and heard what 
sounded like a dozen porcupines a hundred 
yards or more out in the woods. Mose had 
thrown a pan full of bacon rinds and bones 
from the salt hams into the fire. The wind 
had carried the odor of the salt meat through 
the forest, and it had drawn the porcupines 
from far and near. 

“These are only the advance guard,” 
said George. “We’ll have a camp full of 
them before morning. There will be no 
sleeping all night. They’ll chew the camp 
down, if we do not drive them away.” 

“Let us catch one, put him in a sack, 
and keep him until morning,” I suggested. 
“Then I can take his picture.” 

“Anything,” replied George, “to frighten 
them away.” 

So we made a torch from a roll of birch bark 
Mose had cut to kindle his fires and started 
after the quillpigs. We had not gone far 
when we discovered three. The largest 
stopped, when he saw the fiaming torch and 
found himself suddenly transplanted from a 
dense darkness into a dazzling light. His 
[ 103 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


little, bead-like eyes glowed in the brightness, 
and the muscles of his back tightened until 
every quill stood erect, and he took on the 
appearance of a much-enlarged chestnut 
burr. 

George quickly rolled him over with a long 
stick, while Mose slipped a noose over his 
hind leg, then lifted him into the air and 
dropped him in a sack. 

The next morning, after we had eaten a good 
breakfast of trout, washed the dishes, and made 
some preparation for the noon meal, we went 
to the hovel, where we had left the sack 
for the night, to take a picture of the captive. 
The quillpig had] heard us coming and was 
tumbling about in his frantic efforts to escape. 

“Cut the string, Mose, and let him out,” 
I said, having first arranged the camera to 
snap a picture as the creature ran through the 
door. 

But such a sight as emerged from that sack ! 
A shaggy, hairy, awkward brute, with little 
remaining to suggest a porcupine ! There 
was not a quill left in his body. They had 
worked into the sack, and the bold warrior 
was robbed of all his former glory. He 
seemed to feel his humility, to know that he 
[ 104 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


had been shorn of every weapon of defense, 
and instead of attempting to run away, he 
climbed the side of the hovel, couched on a 
crossbeam, and waited, as though he would 
say, had he the gift of speech, ‘‘Kill me if 
you will ; I am at your mercy.” 

We looked as foolish as the porcupine, as we 
stood gazing at each other. 

“You should have known better than to 
put a quillpig in a sack,” Mose twitted 
George, as though he had been responsible 
for the failure. 

“Who lifted him up and put him in the 
sack.^” George, who had little humor in his 
being, responded with feeling, touched by 
the implication. 

“To think that none of us had sense enough,” 
added dad, “to know what would happen, 
is not a great tribute to our ability as 
woodsmen.” 

“Well, we learn from experience,” I sug- 
gested. “ There is nothing in particular before 
us to-day. Let us be off to find more of the 
creatures.” 

“I passed an old cabin just a few days ago, 
not more than four miles from here, which 
was nearly gnawed to pieces by them,” said 
[ 105 ] 


NED B REIVS TER' S 


George. “I am sure we could find loads of 
them there.” 

In a few minutes we had some food in our 
small duffle bags and were on our way over 
the trail towards the cabin. 

We had not gone more than a mile from 
camp when we met in our path a monstrous 
porcupine. He showed more life than most 
of these creatures. They usually curl into a 
ball, turn their sharp quills out, and convert 
themselves into an infinite number of bristling 
bayonets. This fellow ran up a tree and did 
not stop climbing until he was near the top 
of a tall spruce. Then he sat on a limb and 
looked down on us with contempt, as though 
he felt perfectly safe, with no idea that any- 
thing could reach him. 

A red squirrel was in a spruce tree only a 
few yards away, scolding us for intruding 
upon his territory. 

“I’ll stop your tongue very soon,” said 
George, who despised red squirrels more than 
any other creature in the woods. 

He walked under the tree where the red 
squirrel was chattering and struck the trunk a 
heavy blow with the back of his ax. 

“There, that will quiet you for a minute,” 

[ 106 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


George declared, as the squirrel sprang into 
mid-air, its feet tingling from the blow struck 
on the tree, caught the tip bough of an 
adjoining pine, and scampered to the top. 

“There is some more good medicine for 
you,” said George, as he struck again, mak- 
ing the whole tree tremble and the squirrel 
jump once more into space. 

“Try it on the porcupine,” suggested dad. 
“See if you can sting his tough feet.” 

George took his greatest delight in torment- 
ing the squirrel, but at dad’s suggestion he 
gave the tree holding the quillpig a heavy 
blow. The stupid creature sat up quickly, 
as though he had received an electric shock. 

“Rap it again!” exclaimed Mose. “It 
seems to put life in him.” 

George gave the tree another blow. The 
porcupine started to climb out on a small 
branch. Just then George hit the tree again. 
The quillpig lost his hold and came tumbling 
down through the branches. 

“Look out, or he will come down on top of 
you,” shouted dad, just as George was bracing 
to strike once more. 

George looked up to see what was happening 
and saw a bundle of quills rolling through the 
[ 107 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


air. He threw himself backward to save his 
face and fell over a log. The porcupine 
struck his leg, and George gave a yell. 

Dad and Mose jumped to his aid. His 
trousers leg was full of quills. The weight 
of the animal falling such a distance had 
driven scores of them through the cloth into 
his flesh. 

“Don’t move, George,” said dad. “If 
you break them off, you’ll have an awful 
time.” 

“Each quill is like a corkscrew,” added 
Mose. “Every time you move, it twists into 
the flesh. If you don’t draw them out, they 
bore right through.” 

George lay flat on his back and did not move 
a muscle, while dad and Mose began the work 
of extracting the quills. 

“Don’t pull them straight out,” said Mose, 
“or you will break off the points and leave 
them in the flesh. Turn them as you would a 
screw.” 

It was a long, weary process. Each quill 
was a problem in itself and had to be handled 
with the greatest care to save George from 
future suffering; for if a single quill was 
left in the flesh, it would work through the 
[ 108 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


muscles to the bone and then cause no end 
of trouble. 

We were several hours at the task. The sun 
passed the noontime before we were ready to 
continue our journey, and George was lame 
from the many punctures in his flesh. 

About four o’clock we reached the old 
camp. It was a desolate place. The windows 
had been knocked out, and the doors were 
down. The roofs of several cabins had 
collapsed. 

( As we stepped into the main cabin, there 
was a rustling among the fir boughs in the 
bunks and a sound of hurrying feet over the 
floor. The place was alive with porcupines. 

“Did you ever see anything like it.^” 
exclaimed dad, as he saw large and small 
quillpigs hurrying in every direction. 

“This must be their headquarters,” said 
George. 

One little porcupine was especially comical. 
He was only a few weeks old and did not have 
a quill in his body. Small stiff hairs took the 
place of quills, and each hair was thrown 
forward as the little fellow humped his back 
and extended his tail as though he defied any 
enemy to approach. 

[ 109 ] 


NED BREWS TER^ S 


The old ones were so taken by surprise 
that they at first climbed poles or hid in some 
dark corner. But after they had time to 
see the exact situation, they began to rush for 
freedom. We were all standing in front of the 
door, but that did not seem to trouble them 
in the least. They had a confidence in their 
quills which was greater than their fear of man. 

An old fellow started between George’s 
legs, but George hurled him across the room 
by aid of a stick he held in his hand. Mose 
threw another back into the cabin, just as a 
third rushed by his leg into liberty. 

“We’ll be so full of quills here in a minute 
that we’ll never get them out,” said George, 
as three made a lunge for the door at the same 
time. 

“Get back, you brute,” cried dad, as a 
monstrous old fellow tried to crowd by him. 

I set my camera outside the door and 
made preparations for quick work, while the 
fight inside continued. 

When everything was ready, the porcupines 
were given their freedom. The baby led the 
procession. Then three came abreast, and 
the rest in single file. 

As we sat down to talk over our great luck, 

[ 110 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


the clouds began to gather. Mose took a fish- 
line and went down to the brook which 
flowed back of the cabins to catch a mess of 
trout. He had not been gone more than 
half an hour when he came back with a nice 
string of square tails for our afternoon meal. 
When they were sizzling in the sputtering 
bacon fat, big drops of rain began to fall, and 
it was soon evident that a heavy storm was 
upon us. 

‘‘A nice place to be prisoners for the night,’’ 
said dad, as he looked about the cabin. 

The rain began to pour. The clouds seemed 
to open and drench the earth in sheets of 
water. I had heard men tell of cloudbursts, 
and felt sure this must be one. Darkness 
gathered through the forest, and in a very 
few minutes pools of water were standing 
everywhere, while the brooks and rivulets 
were filling and overflowing their banks. 

We sat in a circle, fortunately protected by 
a good roof, eating our trout and wondering 
what we could do for the night. 

Dad began to scratch his thigh and com- 
plain of pain. 

“A porcupine quill has worked into your 
flesh,” said George. 

[Ill] 


NED BREIVS T E S 


I examined carefully to see if anything could 
be found. Sure enough, a quill had worked 
itself half an inch into the flesh and in a very 
little while would have been buried from 
sight. Dad had sat down in the doorway, and 
the quill had caught in his clothes and worked 
through. 

‘‘We will be full of these things, if we have 
to sleep here,” said dad. 

“I think we can make ourselves quite com- 
fortable,” replied Mose. “We can patch up 
that old stove in the corner, board up the 
windows and doors, and be as cozy and warm 
as you please.” 

“We can tear some of the tar paper from 
the roofs of one of the cabins, place a strip 
under us, and then have no fear of the quills,” 
said George. 

In a few minutes the stove was in place, 
enough old rusty joints of stovepipe found 
to make a smoke-stack, and a roaring fire 
made the desolate place quite cheerful. 

The storm continued all night, beating upon 
the roof in sheets of driving rain. 

About ten o’clock we lay down to rest, 
weary from our strenuous efforts and in a few 
minutes we were all asleep, the snores of both 
[ 112 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


Mose and George mingling with the sighs 
of the wind and the rumble of the rain upon 
the cabin. We had not been asleep long, how- 
ever, when we were all awakened by Mose, 
who was muttering something to himself and 
feeling about for a match to make a light. 

“What’s the matter with you?” grumbled 
George. “Lie down and let the rest of us 
sleep.” 

“What’s the matter !” snarled Mose. 
“You would think something was the matter 
if your bed should suddenly begin to walk 
away.” 

“You’re crazy,” said George, who knew 
the tendency of Mose to have nightmares, and 
who thought Mose was now talking in his 
sleep. 

“Look under my bed, if you think I am 
crazy !” replied Mose. 

Sure enough, we heard something scratching 
the paper on which Mose had been lying. 

“Didn’t you hear the thing gnawing?” 
asked Mose. “I heard the miserable thing 
before it moved. Then it began to stretch 
and poke the paper, and I thought it about 
time to investigate.” 

Mose lighted a match, while dad threw the 
[ 113 ] 


NED BREWS TER^ S 


paper to one side. A big porcupine rolled up 
in a ball and sent its quills out for battle. 

What Mose said would not bear repeating, 
but he fully cleared himself from the charge of 
nightmares, as it became clear that he had 
been sleeping over a quillpig. The animal 
had crawled into a hole in the bunk and 
remained there until everything had become 
quiet, then had found itself a prisoner and had 
tried to work its way to freedom. It had 
chiseled in the logs, but, unable to make any 
headway in that direction, had tried the 
paper and was just beginning to push against 
it and cut it when Mose felt his bed moving 
and thought it time to investigate. 

There was not much more sleep that night 
for any of us. All the smaller animals of the 
forest seemed to have run into the cabin 
for protection from the storm. Mice of 
several species chased each other over the 
logs in as merry a game of tag as any boys 
every enjoyed, knocking dirt and gravel 
from the roof down into our faces. A family 
of weasels was running over the floor, ap- 
parently preferring the heat of the stove to the 
wet, cold ground outside the cabin. George 
declared a family of flying squirrels was the 
[ 114 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


cause of all the commotion and blessed them 
in no uncertain terms as the greatest night 
prowlers in the woods. 

Toward morning, just as the first rays of 
light came over the hills, a new disturbance 
arose. 

‘‘A nest of young weasels said Mose. 

Dad jumped from the bunk to see what the 
noise was. A swallow had built a nest just 
over the door and was feeding her young. 
The little, featherless creatures were stretching 
their necks, opening their big mouths as far as 
they could, and begging for some nice morsel 
for a breakfast. The porcupine which had 
disturbed Mose during the night had crawled 
on a beam over the stove and was warming 
himself and apparently enjoying his new 
quarters. The rain was still pouring in great 
sheets. 

‘‘ We certainly are booked for the greatest 
ducking we have ever had,” said dad, as he 
looked out of the door. 

‘‘Well, it’s a choice between a soaking and 
an empty stomach,” replied Mose. “There is 
not food enough here to keep a mouse alive 
until noon.” 

“Food and a soaking are the least of the 
[ 115 ] 


NED BREIVS TER^ S 


troubles of this party,” said George. “The 
river will be over her banks. There has not 
been a rain like this for twenty years, and 
every brook and stream will be roaring.” 

“We’re simply compelled to make camp,” 
declared dad. “There is no food within fifty 
miles of us, this side of the river. We could 
not catch trout with water as high as it is, if we 
fished a month. Camp is only four miles 
away; our food is there, and we must return 
to-day if we have to ford a dozen rivers.” 

“Why not eat the porcupine?” asked 
George. “I’ve eaten them and they are not 
too bad.” 

“You can eat porcupine,” said dad, “but 
the rest of us will go to camp.” 

In a few minutes we were on our way. 

“Just as well wade straight through every- 
thing,” said Mose. “Brooks and rivers are 
not half so wet as these bracken and bushes.” 

Mose was not far from right. Every path 
and tote road had a growth of the tall ferns. 
These, together with the hardback bushes, 
seem to have a special way of holding water 
until a traveler comes along, then driving it 
through his clothes and sending a chill with 
the process. 


[ 116 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


We had not gone a hundred yards before 
we were soaked to the skin from head to foot. 
A little brook which we had scarcely noticed 
on our way to the cabins was flooding its 
banks for fifty feet on each side, and we had 
to wade to our hips to cross it. 

“If this is a sample of things, what about 
the river ? ” I asked. 

“We’ll never cross her in the world,” said 
George. 

“We can build a catamaran,” replied 
Mose, “and pole her across without any 
trouble.” 

“A cat would live about two seconds,” 
responded George. 

“I’ll put her across,” said Mose; “and she 
will not vary ten feet from her course.” 

George and Mose continued their argument, 
growing more violent in their language as 
the discussion increased; but dad and I were 
silent, preferring to see the river before we 
ventured an opinion. We could hear it 
roaring in the distance as we approached. 

“She’s wild,” said George, as he caught 
the sound. 

“Certainly some water coming down her,” 
Mose added. 


117 


NED B REH^S TER’ S 


She was full to the very top of her banks, 
boiling, eddying, roaring as though maddened 
by the storm, tearing her way around rocks, 
and carrying down driftwood and logs in 
large quantities. 

“It would simply be suicide to cross here,” 
said dad. 

“That is what I have been trying to tell 
you all the way over,” replied George. 

“No one would think of crossing here,” 
added Mose, “but a quarter of a mile farther 
up the stream is a dead-water, where we can 
cross easily.” 

That seemed a probable solution of our 
question. Mose knew every foot of the river, 
was a trusted boatman, and was as skillful 
with the pole as with the paddle. 

Fifteen minutes’ walk brought us to the 
dead-water, and it seemed a comparatively 
easy thing to cross. The current was swift, 
but the water was smooth, and there was no 
reason to fear anything with the strong arm 
of Mose at the pole. 

“We better make a cat just large enough to 
hold two people,” said Mose. “I can put a 
lighter one across with more speed.” 

In a few minutes Mose had felled several 

[ 118 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


spruce trees, cut them into logs seven or 
eight feet long and, by means of cross pieces 
and long strips of birch bark and a few pieces 
of string and rope which we had with us, 
had made a catamaran which would easily 
carry two of us across the river in safety. j 

“You come first, Ned,” said Mose. “You 
are lighter than the others, and we will see 
how it works.” 

Mose had cut a pole, and we stepped on the 
cat to push her off. 

“She floats like the ark of safety,” said 
Mose. “I could put her across the rips.” 

Mose kept her well up against the current 
until we were a third of the way across, then 
she gave a sudden lurch. 

“Steady there, Mose,” I said, “or you will 
put us over.” 

Again she tipped and, looking back, I saw 
that Mose was struggling in frantic efforts. 
We had reached water where he could not 
touch bottom with his pole. The cat swung 
down-stream, whirled about in an eddy, and 
then was caught by the current and carried 
along. Mose was plunging every second to 
find a new hole. Once he touched a rock and 
gave the cat a shove that nearly sent me 
[ 119 ] 


NED BREWS T ER^ S 


into the stream. The rapids were just below. 
We could hear them roaring. Every yard 
we were taken down the current increased in 
strength. 

“Strike bottom, or you are both gone!” 
came a voice from the shore. 

“Keep your nerve,” cautioned Mose. 
“We’ll make her yet.” 

“There’s a big rock down-stream,” I re- 
plied. “If we could make that, we could 
hold to it and be safe.” 

“Don’t worry; we’ll get bottom in a 
minute !” 

I could see the white foam from the rapids 
below. The dead-water widened out and 
scores of big boulders dotted the wild stream 
where it took its first plunge. It meant sure 
destruction if we were driven on them. Then 
I felt the cat moving. 

“We’ve got her again !” cried Mose. “But 
the current is fierce.” 

The little raft shot forward under' the 
strong arm of Mose, but in spite of all he 
could do the current bore us down. We were 
two thirds across, but the rapids were not 
more than a hundred yards below us, boiling 
and threatening our lives. Mose was making 
[ 120 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


each stroke count, but every second the current 
grew stronger. I looked back to the shore 
and saw dad. He was walking up and down 
as though crazed and tempted to plunge in 
the stream to come to our relief. 

Then there was a crash : Mose had plunged 
the cat head on into a rock. The blow 
sent me into the stream, which caught me 
and hurled me down. I adjusted myself 
and began to swim for the shore. It was not 
more than fifty feet away, but the water was 
so swift that I had little chance. Then I 
turned my head and saw that I was at the edge 
of the rapids. The roar was awful. I knew 
that I was gone, but I gave one more stroke, 
into which I put all my strength. 

It brought me to a boulder, the top of which 
was just beneath the water. I clutched it 
with my fingers and held with a death grip. 
The current hurled my body around as though 
I had been a leaf, but my grip held. I 
climbed on the rock. The stream roared 
about me. Land was not more than thirty 
feet away, but a wild current shot between 
the rock and the shore. 

“Hold tight, that you don’t slip off!” 
Mose shouted. 


[ 121 ] 


NED BREWS TER^ S 


He had driven the catamaran to the shore 
and was safe. 

“I’ll reach you a pole,” he continued. 
“Hold firm until I cut a long birch.” 

It was only a minute before I was safely by 
his side, rescued at the very edge of death. 

We could faintly hear dad shouting from the 
other shore. He was probably warning Mose 
not to return for them. But Mose cut a long 
pole with which he was certain he could 
reach bottom, towed the cat up-stream to the 
head of the dead-water, and started for his 
other passengers. 

He did not vary ten feet in his course across 
the river, and he soon had carried both dad 
and George over with as little excitement as 
though he had been poling across a quiet lake. 
Dad did not say a word when he reached me, 
but he looked volumes of gratitude that I 
had been saved. There are some things about 
which a man does not care to talk, and this 
was one of them. 

By noon we were at camp, hungry, weary, 
cold, and wet. 

“And to think this was all for the picture 
of a quillpig,” said George, as we stood about 
the stove, warming ourselves. 

[ 122 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


CHAPTER TEN 


FIGHT IVITH A BIG BEAR 

G eorge had returned to camp, after 
several cruises, with a report of fresh 
bear signs between Fowler and Burton 
Lakes. One day, after running the birch- 
bark canoe down the swift waters of the Upper 
Renouse, just before reaching the head-water 
of Fowler, he had stopped for a few minutes 
to paddle about the long dead-water made by 
a network of beaver dams to discover any new 
signs of wild life. Just as the “Bean Pod,” 
the name we had given the little birch craft, 
swung around a point of alders, George 
found himself face to face with a huge black 
bear. The great beast was hunting about 
the colony for a sweet morsel of beaver’s 
meat for an evening meal. 

The canoe was going with such speed that 
it was impossible to check it, and George 
trembled as the bow almost touched the 
hind feet of Bruin. 


[ 123 ] 


NED B REPVS TER^ S 


The bear was startled beyond self-control, 
and much against her habit gave a loud 
“Hough” as she sprang through the brush, 
plunged into the river, and in plain sight of 
George swam across the stream and ran 
away into the deep woods. 

This discovery, together with the bear 
signs, raised our guide’s enthusiasm to the 
highest pitch. The spot where he had seen 
the bear was not more than half a mile in a 
straight line to the hillside, where he had 
discovered logs ripped open by Bruin’s claws, 
and many tracks she had left in the soft 
earth to tell of her passing. Now that his 
eye had caught a glimpse of what he declared 
to be the largest animal he had ever seen, he 
was determined we should place on the hillside 
a large supply of molasses, cheese, and salt 
pork to make a new feeding ground. 

His enthusiasm soon spread through the 
camp, and we were all as anxious as he to 
visit the new field, choose a desirable spot 
for the bait, and secure the bear’s picture. 

We had passed several times over the trail 
leading from Fowler to Burton Lakes, but I 
had never been impressed by the beauty 
of the scenery as I was the next morning, when 
[ 124 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


we started with our packs of molasses and 
meats. The first half of the trail ran through 
an open, hardwood ridge, where the giant 
maples and beeches of many generations of 
growth stood in their proud strength. 

We had just had several days of wet 
weather, and the fungi were everywhere push- 
ing through the rich soil beneath these big 
trees. One piece of fungus especially at- 
tracted our attention. It looked like a bit 
of amber-colored coral, which might have 
been brought from the depths of the Southern 
seas. No color seemed to be wanting in this 
rich variety^ of queer growths. Yellow and 
red, purple and blue and gray, were all before 
us, in forms varying from the common toad- 
stool to the rich coral patterns. 

The last part of the trail was covered with 
a spruce forest, sprinkled with great boulders, 
which must have been brought down in the 
ice age and left here to be the home of many 
mosses and to give root to the dainty polypody 
which grew over them in great profusion. 

Down the side of this mountain tumbled a 
small stream, with water clear as crystal and 
so cold that one wondered where the ice was 
kept over which it flowed. Ferns grew in 
[ 125 ] 


NED B R EIVS TER^ S 


great abundance along its entire course, 
and it was only by the greatest care that we 
could stoop to drink without crushing dainty 
oak and long beech ferns beneath our feet. 

“The bear that knows enough to choose 
this for a feeding ground,” said dad, as we 
walked through the beautiful spots, “must 
be a high-grade animal. We will do well to 
capture her.” 

“Here is a sign of her work now,” said 
George. “She has recently scratched this 
tree.” 

Sure enough, there on a fir tree were the 
marks of her big claws. 

“This is the way they blaze a path through 
the woods,” suggested Mose, as he pointed 
to several of these scratches on a line of trees 
along the trail. 

“Nonsense !” exclaimed George. “That is 
one of the old notions about a bear. People 
used to think these animals marked the 
trees to spot a trail through the woods. The 
simple truth seems to be that they follow a 
trail and scratch the trees just in play as they 
travel along, or possibly to taste the sap.” 

“Whatever may be the reason for doing it,” 
added dad, “the way they mark the trees 
[ 126 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


is extremely interesting. Instead of facing 
the tree, they stand on their hind legs, turn 
their backs to the trunk, then reach over their 
heads with their front feet, and claw the bark 
a foot or two higher than they can reach with 
their teeth.” ^ 

“You can tell about the size of a bear,” 
declared George, “by the distance he reaches 
on a tree.” 

Some of these marks were eight or ten feet 
above the ground, while others were not 
more than half that distance. They could be 
seen all along the trail, and at intervals we 
could see where they had led away from the 
path into the woods. 

While we were discussing these signs, Mose, 
who was leading on the trail, suddenly stopped, 

“Did you ever see the like of that?” he 
asked, pointing to a bed of bracken that had 
been crushed to the ground. 

“A bear was there last night,” declared 
George. 

“A bear !” exclaimed Mose. “Looks more 
like a band of bears than one.” 

“Here is the track of a cub,” said dad. 

“And here is another,” I added, having 
stepped a little beyond Mose. 

[ 127 ] 


NED BREWS TER^ S 


“This is the track of the old mother,” 
added Mose. “They must have had a bear 
party last night.” 

“It is that old bear and her cubs that I have 
been talking about,” exclaimed George. “I 
have been trying to tell you fellows what was 
here, but you would not believe me. I have 
seen these same tracks several times.” 

“Here, then, is the place for another 
Waldorf Astoria for the bears,” said dad, 
enthused by the sight. 

We separated, going in different directions, 
to find a spot where we could put the bait 
and at the same time find a good hiding place 
from which a picture could be secured. 

“Here is the spot,” shouted George, who had 
gone down the hillside, following the course 
of the brook. 

“Ideal !” I exclaimed, after reaching the 
ground and looking it over. 

There was a natural runway for bears 
along the bed of the small stream, and a 
clump of brush not more than fifty feet 
away seemed to have been grown there for the 
purpose of making a blind. 

Mose and dad proceeded to deposit a large 
supply of what George called the bear candy, 
[ 128 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


molasses, cheese, and meat, while I gave a few 
touches to the branches and covered open 
spots to make a place where, in a few days, we 
could come and watch for a picture. 

Three days later, George was sent over 
the trail to see if the bears had discovered 
the new feeding place. He had left early 
in the morning, and we did not expect that 
he would return before night, as he usually 
took a long cruise through the woods before 
turning back to camp. But just as we were 
sitting down to dinner at the noon hour, 
George came into the cabin, almost out of 
breath and greatly excited. 

‘‘Anything been around.^” asked dad. 

“Anything around !” exclaimed George. 
“I’ll wager three bears were at that molasses 
before we were out of sight. I never saw 
anything like it. It looks as if fifty bears 
had been there in the last three days.” 

“Any bait left ? ” asked Mose, who was never 
excited and always saw first the practical side. 

“They’ve made away with the last drop of 
molasses, and there is not an ounce of cheese 
to be found,” replied George. “There were 
two or three pieces of salt meat, but nothing 
else.” 


[ 129 ] 


NED BREIVS T E S 


‘‘We must lose no time, then, if we want a 
picture,” declared dad. “We must go there 
to-morrow. It will not do to put out fresh 
bait. That might frighten them away. 
What meat is there will not last longer than 
another day, and what we do must be done 
quickly.” 

To this we all agreed except Mose, who 
thought it useless to try to secure a picture 
of a bear by daylight. 

“They’re doing their feeding at night,” he 
said, “and it is simply useless to try to catch 
them by day.” 

“Nonsense,” replied George. “It is my 
impression that they live about that place all 
the time. The only difficulty will be in slip- 
ping into the blind without frightening the 
bears away.” 

George always saw three bears where there 
was only one, while Mose always saw one 
where there were three. On the whole I liked 
George’s temper better, because he would spur 
us on to hope for great things, and we could 
make some deductions for his enthusiasm, but 
Mose would discourage us before we started 
on a venture, and it was only by force of will 
that we could rise above his dark view of things. 

[ 130 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


Dad and I knew there were not so many 
bears about the feeding ground as George 
had indicated, but we also knew they fed in 
the daytime as well as at night, and we con- 
fidently expected to catch Bruin under the 
light of the full noonday sun. 

Early next morning we were ready to start. 

“You better bring your little twenty-two,” 
said dad. “You might pick off a few par- 
tridges along the way for our supper. I’ll 
carry an ax, in case we have to give a few 
finishing touches to the blind.” 

It was the longest five miles I had ever 
tramped through the woods. I was so anxious 
to reach my hiding place that every hillside 
seemed twice its usual distance, and the 
climbs up the mountain never seemed so 
steep and long. 

George and Mose, later in the day, came 
along with Molly, our pack animal, to make 
camp for the night on a ridge not far from 
the blind. 

“Careful, now,” dad cautioned, as we 
neared the bait. “ We must approach without 
a sound, so as not to frighten any bear away 
that may be in this region.” 

We slackened our speed and crept along 
[ 131 ] 


NED B REIVS T E S 


without a sound, careful that our moccasins 
did not touch a dry twig or leaf. 

“What a sight !” whispered dad, as he 
looked through the field glasses upon the spot 
where the bait had been placed. “They cer- 
tainly have riddled it.” 

We did not venture near the feeding ground, 
for fear we would leave some scent and frighten 
the bears away. Creeping noiselessly into 
the blind from which we could view the 
entire region, we set up the camera and be- 
gan the long, patient wait for some bear to 
approach. 

There was something unusually fascinating 
about the whole situation, though I am not 
able to tell just what it was. We had watched 
for bears at night, but then we were in a 
cabin and felt a certain sense of security. We 
had spent weeks watching deer and moose, 
but in doing this we never felt any sense of 
danger. We really did not feel any risk as we 
sat here waiting for the bears, for we knew 
they were exceedingly timid animals and would 
run at the least sound or scent. 

Possibly our feeling came from the fact 
that we had read so much about bears and 
had heard so many stories of their terrible 
[ 132 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


attacks upon men. George and Mose had 
told of several fierce fights where bears had 
torn old Indians and trappers to pieces, 
and I had just read a book of frontier tales 
of brown and grizzly bears among the early 
settlers of the West. Hence I had the feeling 
that we were doing something with an element 
of danger in it, even though I really knew we 
were not. 

The time passed quickly, and before we 
realized how long we had been on the log 
where we sat, the sun had passed overhead and 
was half way on its downward course. All 
that time we had not spoken a word. The 
only thing that had broken the stillness was 
the scolding chatter of a red squirrel and the 
thud of pine cones which it had thrown down 
from the top of the tree. We had not even 
thought of a lunch, so absorbed had we been 
in our watching. Dad was just reaching 
for our knapsack when I saw something move 
behind a clump of brush about two hundred 
yards away. 

“Dad !” I whispered. 

Dad knew something was near and stopped 
to look. 

“The bear !” I whispered again. 

[ 133 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


The head of the great beast was just visible 
in the brush. 

“The cubs !” breathed dad. 

About fifty yards behind the old mother 
two little fellows were walking cautiously, 
sniflfing the air to detect danger and carefully 
surveying every foot of the ground about them. 

The approach could not have been more 
favorable. A gentle breeze was blowing up 
the hillside from the bears toward us. The 
sun was directly behind us, and the rays 
struck without a single obstruction upon the 
very spot where the old bear would come 
for the food. 

“Keep your nerve, now, lad, and wait 
until you can see the white of her eye before 
you fire,” cautioned dad. 

He must have been thinking of the battle 
of Bunker Hill by the figure he used, but his 
caution was not necessary. I had thought 
out the plans very carefully as we had sat 
on that log. The bait was not more than 
fifty feet from where we were hidden, and the 
wind being favorable, I determined to wait 
until the bear should walk within that dis- 
tance before I snapped the camera. 

The old mother seemed to feel that there 
[ 134 ] 



She was not more than Fifty Feet away. Page 135 





BEAR HUNT 


was no danger, and after leaving the brush, 
walked without any further hesitation in the 
direction of the meat. I was hoping the 
cubs would scamper along and overtake the 
mother, so that I could secure the picture 
of all three together. 

This, however, seemed impossible. The 
cubs were still nursing and were not attracted 
by the coarse food we had supplied. 

When the mother was within a hundred and 
fifty feet of me, I pointed the camera in her 
direction and looked down upon the ground 
glass on the beautiful picture made by the 
reflecting mirror. Slowly she came nearer and 
nearer. With each forward step, I extended 
the bellows of the camera to keep her in 
perfect focus. At first her image was only a 
tiny speck, but it grew larger and larger, 
until every feature became distinct. Then it 
half covered the glass, and, looking carefully, 
I could see she had reached the bait. She 
was not more than fifty feet away. 

If she would only pose, what a picture she 
would make ! 

Then she half turned and pointed her nose 
in the air. I did not dare to wait another 
second for fear she had discovered us. Down 
[ 135 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


went the focal plane shutter of the camera. I 
had caught her picture, but the noise of the 
shutter gave her an awful fright. She made 
one wild leap for the brush, coming directly 
toward us. 

Quickly she discovered that she was in 
the grip of the enemy. One savage blow 
of her paw knocked the camera from my 
hands. A second blow came before I had 
time to think, and though I dodged quickly, 
she caught me on the point of the shoulder 
and ripped my shirt to the elbow. 

Dad seized the ax and lunged toward her, 
directing a deadly blow at her head, but she 
warded it off with her paw, receiving from it 
only a slight cut on her leg. 

Recovering herself quickly, she gave a long 
leap and planted her paws on my shoulders, 
throwing me to the ground. 

“Knock her off,” I shouted. “She has me 
tight.” 

Dad drew his knife and planted it behind her 
shoulder. She loosened her hold on me and 
started for dad again. 

“Stand by, Ned !” shouted dad. “It is a 
fight to the finish.” 

I seized the ax, but there was such a lively 
[ 136 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


mix-up between the bear and dad that I 
could not strike a blow. 

She rose on her hind legs and tried her best 
to draw dad into her great mouth. Dad 
planted his hands firmly against her throat, 
holding her away. 

I plunged the long knife between her ribs, 
trying to reach a vital spot. Once I came 
too near, and she caught me with her hind 
paw, nearly ripping the clothes from my 
body. 

“She’s tearing the meat from my bones,” 
cried dad. 

“Hold her a minute longer,” I shouted. 
“She can’t stand much more.” 

I knew dad was nearly exhausted, still I 
did not seem able to push the point of the knife 
into her heart. Then I remembered the 
twenty-two rifle I had slipped under the log 
and, seizing it, I placed the muzzle between 
her eyes and fired. 

The great brute fell dead at our feet ! 

We simply stood looking at each other. It 
had all happened so quickly that we had not 
had time to become excited. It was such a 
surprise to us that we could not understand it, 
and several minutes passed before we could 
[ 137 ] 


NED B REIVS T E S 


collect ourselves enough to know what it all 
meant. 

“Close call,” I said, being the first to 
speak. 

“Well, rather,” dad replied. “Would not 
care to have it much closer.” 

“How do you account for it.^” I asked. 
“You have always said there is no animal 
on this continent that would deliberately 
attack a man.” 

“So I still declare,” said dad, “but I have 
not had enough time to figure this out. It 
seems to me this way, however. It is natural 
for a wild beast, when frightened, to spring 
for the nearest clump of brush. The wind was 
blowing from her toward us, so that she could 
not locate the danger by scent. We were in 
the only cover near her and, not knowing 
where the danger was, it was natural for her 
to plunge into this brush. Once she was 
face to face with us, especially in view of the 
fact that she had her cubs near by, it was 
natural that she should fight.” 

For the moment we had forgotten the cubs, 
but the mention of them turned our eyes in the 
direction where we last saw them, but they 
were not there. 


[ 138 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


“Possibly they have run up a tree,” said 
dad. “If they have, we can capture them.” 

We both started down the hill, looking 
into every tree, but the cubs were not to be 
found. They had trusted to their swift legs 
rather than a tall tree for protection and had 
run down the mountain to the thick alder 
swamp leading to the river. We turned back 
to the old mother. 

“What a pity we have killed her !” I ex- 
claimed. 

“Nothing but self -protection would ever 
have made us do it,” replied dad, as he 
stroked her and commented upon her beautiful 
fur. “There ought to be a law forbidding 
men to shoot or trap them. They add so 
much to our interest in the great woods.” 

“There is one satisfaction,” I added. “The 
cubs are old enough to take care of themselves.” 

“Without a doubt,” said dad. “They will 
linger about this place for a few days and 
then begin to cruise for themselves.” 

The old bear had a heavy coat of fur, 
though it was late in the season. 

“She will make a fine rug for your den,” I 
said to dad, as he and Mose began to skin her 
and prepare the head for the taxidermist. 

[ 139 ] 


NED B REIVS T E S 


“Her meat will make good eating also,” said 
George, who had memories of bear steaks 
in former years. 

“We will take a hind quarter to camp, at 
any rate,” replied dad. “Probably no one 
will eat it, but we will take it along to test our 
appetites.” 

In a few minutes we were ready to start 
back to the cabins. Our blankets and what 
little food remained were packed on Molly. 
Then Mose threw the bear hide on her back, 
fastened it securely, and George placed the 
hind quarter of meat on top of the hide and 
lashed it to the other material. 

While we had been packing, the wind had 
carried all the scent down the hill away 
from Molly’s nostrils. As we turned toward 
the trail, she caught the scent of the bear, 
gave one long jump, jerked the rope from 
Mose, and bounded down the hill, bellowing, 
kicking, and lunging from side to side as she 
ran. 

“She thinks a bear is after her,” laughed 
Mose, as though he thought it a great joke. 

“No matter what she thinks !” shouted 
dad. “Make after her, or we shall lose our 
blankets and everything else on her back.” 

[ 140 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


George and dad started in hot pursuit, but 
Mose was laughing and shouting. It was the 
biggest circus he had seen since the small 
show with an elephant and a camel had come 
to Doaktown. 

Molly was frantic. She darted through a 
clump of thick alders. When she emerged 
on the other side, blankets, frying pans, and 
tin plates marked every step of her path. 
The quarter of bear meat was left in a green, 
stagnant pool of water, but the hide was still 
on her back. Mose had done good work 
in lashing it in place, and she could not kick 
it oflF. 

The last we saw of her she was running at 
a terrific rate down a big moose trail, still 
kicking and lunging. We followed for half a 
day, but the hide kept in place and she was 
still running. 

‘‘She is in the Nepisguit county by this 
time,” said George. “A fellow at Frederic- 
ton had a team of moose. One day he started 
with them in his sleigh from St. John the same 
time that the steam train started and he beat 
the train into Fredericton. Moose cover 
ground fast. Molly will be half way to Que- 
bec by night.” 


[ 141 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


We all knew George was not far from right. 
At least we knew it was useless to follow 
Molly, and we turned back, having lost both 
our bear hide and our pack animal. 


[ 142 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


CHAPTER ELEVEN 

THE LOON FAMILY 

A S we paddled down Fowler Lake on 
our way back to camp, two old loons 
kept up an incessant scolding and 
continued to swim ahead of our canoe as 
though trying to persuade us to enter upon a 
chase. 

“They have a nest here some place,” said 
George, who was at the stern paddle. 
“They’re leading us away, so we will not find 
it.” 

We turned the canoe about and started on 
a hunt for the eggs. 

“We’ll find it somewhere in a little tuft of 
grass and mud,” said George. 

The lake was full of such tufts, and to have 
examined each one would have meant a 
whole summer’s work. 

“I think the best thing is to come here 
early to-morrow morning, approach as quietly 
as possible, and try to discover the old bird 
as she tumbles off the nest,” I declared. 

[143] 


NED B REIVS TER’ S 


George thought this suggestion a good one, 
and soon after sunrise the following day we 
were on the lake, gliding along without a 
sound, except the noise of the ripples lapping 
the bow of the canoe. 

I knew it was useless to match my dull 
eyes against her keen vision. She would 
detect us long before we could see her or 
discover any movement over the water. 
Hence I took my strong field glasses to aid 
us in our task. 

“She will be well out in the lake,” said 
George. “Keep your glasses on the tufts 
which stand alone.” 

I kept the glasses playing back and forth, 
looking carefully behind every blade of grass, 
examining the top of every floating piece of 
bog or small island. 

A marsh hen, which had been booming in 
the early morning light, was the only sign of 
life which could anywhere be discovered. 

We had gone nearly the entire length of 
the lake, but had discovered nothing. There 
was just one more chance. A long arm of the 
marsh ran into the lake, leaving a narrow 
entrance into the upper end. 

“Paddle carefully behind this point,” I said 
[ 144 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


to George, ‘‘and let me look over the grass. I 
may be able to sight her before she sees us.” 

I slowly rose to my feet without a sound, 
holding the glasses firmly to my eyes, as I did 
not dare to trust my own vision for a second. 

Scarcely had my head appeared above the 
tall grass when I detected a quick motion 
and then a circle left on the water. 

“I have her, George. She is at the upper 
end of the lake.” 

The very instant I had lifted my head 
above the marsh she had seen me, tumbled 
into the lake, and dove beneath the surface. 

We then paddled directly to the spot which 
we had carefully marked by trees upon the 
shore. There were two large brown eggs 
about the size of duck eggs. The nest was 
made of mud. Indeed, there was not much 
evidence that the old loon had given time or 
effort to the building of this place. The 
eggs were simply deposited in a depression in 
the earth with some of the grass, which had 
grown in the place, pressed down by the weight 
of the old mother’s body. The entire spot 
was not more than three or four feet 
in any direction, and it was not elevated 
more than a foot above the water. There 
[ 145 ] 


NED BREIVS TER^ S 


was not a sign anywhere of the old loon. 
She had remained under the water until 
reaching some channel out in the marsh, 
where it was impossible to discover her. The 
male bird was scolding from a distance, but 
if we had not discovered his mate tumbling 
into the water, we might easily have concluded 
that it was an old nest and that the eggs had 
been deserted. 

‘‘This is the chance of a lifetime,” I said 
to George. “I have never before seen a 
loon’s nest. Now I will secure pictures of 
the entire family, — father, mother, eggs, 
and little birds.” 

George only laughed at my suggestion, and 
declared I would need several lifetimes before 
realizing my hopes. 

“Why,” he said, “I have seen sportsmen 
work for a whole day with powerful rifles 
before they could even shoot a loon. They 
are so quick they can dodge beneath the surface 
before a bullet can strike them. I paddled a 
fellow over this very lake from ten in the 
morning until four in the afternoon, trying 
to shoot a fine old bird. He must have 
fired nearly fifty shots. Every time the 
bullet would strike in the very spot where the 
[ 146 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


loon had been, but the bird had gone down 
before the ball had reached him. He never 
would have hit the loon, had not the bird 
become exhausted.” 

“But it is different with a camera,” I 
suggested. 

“The only difference is, it is more difficult,” 
said George. “I was with a man up the 
Sou’west, and we tried for three weeks to 
get a picture of a loon, and finally concluded 
that it was impossible.” 

“Well, we will see,” was the only answer I 
made, as I had learned that it was useless to 
argue with George, when he once had an 
opinion. “We will leave the nest alone until 
the eggs hatch ; then we will try our luck.” 

As we turned to paddle away, there came 
again the weird booming of the marsh hen, a 
noise like the driving of stakes into some far- 
distant hillside. Punk-er4unk, punk-er-lunk, 
is the way some one has described the strange 
call, but another writer has given it more 
accurate description in the syllables, puck4a- 
grook, puck-la-grook, puck-la-grook, 

I had heard it many times sounding down 
the lake, but had never seen the solitary 
bird when giving the call. Indeed, it was not 
[ 147 ] 


NED BREWS T E S 


an easy task to discover him. We had doubt- 
less passed these birds scores of times without 
discovering them. They stand in the high 
grass with head erect and pointed upward 
without moving a muscle, and they might 
easily be mistaken for a stump in a thick 
growth of marsh. Hence to discover them, 
even after the sound has been definitely 
located, is extremely difficult. 

We drifted down the lake without a sound, 
looking carefully along both shores lined with 
high grass, hoping we might discover the bird 
before he became alarmed at our approach 
and froze into an indiscernible mass of feathers. 
Not far from the spot where we had frightened 
the birds on our way up the lake, by the 
aid of my powerful binoculars, I sighted 
its head just above the sedges. 

We put the canoe into the shore, and under 
the cover of the grass which hung over the 
water, we stole down the lake until we were 
opposite the bird. 

Then, stopping behind a clump of brush 
for protection, I lifted my head slowly above 
the bushes and saw the old marsh hen not 
more than a hundred feet away. 

I thought truly she was in convulsions. 

[ 148 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


She was going through such contortions that 
every muscle of her body seemed to be writhing 
in agony. She gulped. Her body heaved. 
Her long neck and head swung as though she 
were strangling for breath. Then she 
straightened herself, and there came forth 
the three booming calls. Each note was given 
with an action which suggested a horrible 
nausea. 

Her agonizing contortions had been made 
in the effort of filling her lungs with air, and 
the energy spent in making the booming 
shook her entire body. 

The sounds had a quality in them which 
suggested that they came from below the 
water, and if I had not watched the entire 
process, I could easily have believed the 
commonly accepted idea that the bird filled 
her throat with water to make the sound. 

Each day we paddled up the lake to examine 
the loon’s nest to see if the eggs had hatched. 
For a week we attended faithfully to these 
duties, but at the end of the week I skipped 
one day to go to Burton Lake to study some 
bear signs. That evening George, who had 
gone to the loon’s nest alone, returned with the 
report that the birds were hatched and gone. 
[ 149 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


“ Impossible ! ” I declared. “We were there 
only the day before, and the eggs were still 
in the nest. If they are not there, a mink has 
taken them.” 

“He may have taken the birds,” insisted 
George, “but the eggshells are there, out of 
which the little fellows came.” 

Early next morning we were on our way to 
determine, if possible, what had happened 
in the loon family. It did not seem at all 
possible that young birds could hatch one day 
and take to the water the next, yet we knew 
that any mink would have a difficult time to 
take the small loons with two great birds 
there to protect their young. 

We found one little fellow lying in a clump 
of weeds, just at the edge of the water. He 
had come from the shell too weak to live 
and had probably died soon after leaving the 
warm home. 

The other bird was swimming about the nest 
as though he was an old, experienced swimmer. 

“If I did not see it with my own eyes,” 
said George, as he looked at the black bundle 
of fuzz, “I would never believe that a bird 
in the shell day before yesterday could be such 
a vigorous swimmer to-day.” 

[ 150 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


"‘It will probably be a greater surprise 
before we capture him,” I added. “But we 
must capture him if possible and put him 
back in the nest for a picture.” 

As soon as we started for him, he tried to 
dive. It was one of the most comical sights I 
have ever seen in the woods. He had all 
the instinct of the old loon to dive, but his 
legs were not strong enough to take him down. 
He would put his head beneath the water, 
his tail would point straight up, and his tiny 
legs would churn the water violently, as he 
tried to drive himself beneath the surface. 
He would lift his head for a breath of air and 
then repeat the ludicrous struggle. But there 
was too much fuzz on his tiny body, and its 
floating power being so much greater than 
the paddling power of his legs, it kept him 
on the surface. Nature had kindly wrapped 
him about with a big life preserver, as he 
first ventured in the water and among the 
waves. 

If he had any sense of humor, however, the 
tables were soon turned upon us. We cap- 
tured the little fellow, lifted him back into the 
nest, and tried to secure his picture. If he 
was helpless in diving, he was a successful 

[ 151 ] 


ED BREWS TER^ S 


bundle of animation the minute his feet 
touched the ground. The second we placed 
him in the nest he was out again, paddling 
across the lake with each of us in frantic 
pursuit. We were in the water and out, 
rolling in the mud and tumbling out of the 
canoe in rapid succession. 

“The only way you will ever get a picture of 
that bird,” said George, puflSng from hard 
work, “will be to tie him where you want 
him.” 

I was determined, however, never to get a 
picture in that way. Such a method would 
have been fine nature faking, and I would have 
rather gone without any pictures than have 
resorted to such methods. 

We continued for half an hour to put the 
bird in place, but the more we tried to pose 
him, the more he struggled. 

For fear we would overtire his tiny legs and 
body, and possibly cause his death, we let 
him paddle away, acknowledging our defeat, 
and contented ourselves with a picture of him 
swimming upon the water. 

“I told you it was impossible to get pictures 
of loons,” said George, with a superior air, 
as though he had been justified to his opinion. 

[152] 


BEAR HUNT 


“Do not boast too soon,” I replied. “We 
did not have a fair chance then. You put 
me on the shore; then you paddle back to 
camp, leaving me for the rest of the day, and 
we will see what can be done.” 

There were two large boulders at the very 
edge of the water, with a small opening be- 
tween them, which made an excellent hiding 
place. I went directly to this spot, watched 
George until he was lost behind the sedges, 
and then waited for the loons to come. I 
felt certain that sometime during the day 
they would swim near enough to the shore so 
that I could take a picture. 

What impressed me most was the apparent 
indifference of the parent birds for their child. 
It swam about the lake, not venturing very 
far from the nest, usually keeping in some 
spot protected from the wind, but the old birds 
seldom came near it. Possibly nature had 
provided so well for the little loon that 
the parents did not feel any great responsi- 
bility. It simply could not sink, and so long 
as it kept its head out of the water there 
was no danger that it would drown. Food 
in the nature of water bugs and insects 
were about it in plenty, and so long as an 
[ 153 ] 


NED B RE ITS TER^ S 


enemy, sueh as the mink, kept away, it was 
provided with every need and was perfectly 
safe. It bobbed up and down on the waves 
like a cork, evidently perfectly happy and 
content with its lot, not caring whether its 
parents came near or not, while they dove, 
laughed, and screamed, flapped their wings 
over the water, and indulged in a generally 
hilarious afternoon, as though rejoicing over 
the fact that their task of building a nest and 
brooding over the eggs was completed. 

But the two birds were alert every second. 
A sense of fear seemed to possess them, and 
their keen eyes were turning first to the sky 
and then over the lake, as though they ex- 
pected some eagle to swoop down upon them 
or some hunter to approach at any minute. 
Then, stretching their long necks, they would 
make the mountains ring with their weird 
laughter. I sometimes thought they tried 
to frighten enemies away by these strange 
sounds, which imitate the wild, delirious laugh 
of a lunatic, and again it just seemed to be 
the natural overflowing of their good feelings. 

One thing which surprised me was the large 
amount of diving done by them when they 
were alone and undisturbed. I had always 
[ 154 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


thought of this as a means they used to 
escape when pursued, but now, when they 
were not conscious of anything near them, 
they were constantly diving and swimming 
beneath the water. They would remain 
under the surface for long periods and swim 
great distances. I sometimes thought they 
could swim faster under the water than on 
it. 

I began to despair of ever securing a picture. 
They kept far out from the shore, beyond the 
reach of my camera. The old father bird 
swam almost opposite me, at least two 
hundred yards out in the lake. Something 
apparently frightened him. He gave a quick 
squawk and plunged beneath the water, 
making a great splash as he went down. I 
wondered if his keen eye had detected me. 
For a minute I held my breath, fearing 
George’s prophecy would be true that the 
bird was too quick for a camera, and that I 
had frightened him away from the spot. 

Then I was so startled that I almost forgot 
my mission. Quickly as a cork he bobbed to 
the surface within a few feet of where I sat, 
looked back to the spot from which he had 
started, as though proud of his long swim 
[ 155 ] 


NED B REIVS T E S 


under water, and then swam carelessly about 
me. 

He came within twenty feet of me. Once 
I thought he was going to climb out on the 
bank. Then he heard the click of my camera 
and plunged beneath the surface, swam under 
water until he was safely hidden behind the 
tall grass bordering one of the channels, when 
he bobbed up and gave a crazy laugh of 
defiance, as though proud of the fact that he 
had escaped. 

George returned later in the afternoon, but 
he would not believe I had succeeded in se- 
curing a picture. When he saw the negative, 
however, he was compelled to aclmowledge 
my success. Then his appreciation of me 
seemed to go up a hundred per cent, and he 
entered into all of my future undertakings 
with more zeal than he had shown in the past. 


[ 156 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


CHAPTER TWELVE 

CAPTURING BEAR CUBS 

O NE day George and Mose returned 
from a cruise with the report that 
they had seen signs of the two cubs 
whose mother we had killed about a berry 
patch, not far from the scene of the fight. 

Taking our heavy packs on our backs, and 
sighing over the loss of our faithful pack ani- 
mal Molly, we started over the range. Toward 
night we came to an old, deserted cabin. It 
would have been reduced to a dust heap years 
ago by the millions of worms burrowing in 
the logs had it not been for the annual work 
of hunters, who replaced decaying logs by 
new ones, and mended here and there leaking 
shingles on the roof. 

“That cabin is one of the oldest landmarks 
in these woods,” said Mose, as we approached 
it through a clump of raspberry bushes. 
“It was built by an Indian more than seventy- 
[ 157 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


five years ago. A man and his squaw lived 
there for more than twenty years.” 

“We may be glad it still stands,” sug- 
gested dad. “It looks like a storm, and the 
cabin will keep us dry through the night.” 

“Don’t catch me sleeping in that place,” 
declared Mose, with great emphasis. 

“You don’t want to get wet, do you ” asked 
dad. 

“Rather be soaked than to sleep there,” 
rephed Mose. “You couldn’t tempt any 
guide in this region to sleep in that place 
if he had to lie out in the wet for a month.” 

“Haunted !” exclaimed dad. 

“No, not haunted,” said Mose, “but I 
couldn’t sleep in there without seeing all 
sorts of things and hearing queer sounds all 
night. About twenty years ago, the old 
Indian who lived in the cabin went on a hunt. 
His wife was at the lake fishing. The cabin 
was full of dried fish. The smell must have 
been enough to draw all the wild beasts of the 
forest. Anyhow, the old Indian returned 
before his wife and, having on soft moccasins, 
he probably made no sound as he approached 
the cabin. The door was open, so he must 
have thought his wife was within. 

[ 158 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


“When he stepped inside there was a bear, 
a big black dam with her cub. He had 
just put his gun down at the corner of the 
cabin, so he had only his knife for protection. 
The bear saw she was in a trap with no way of 
of escape, as the Indian was in the door. 

“Immediately she showed fight. She 
sprang at the Indian and seized him by the 
shoulders, evidently trying to draw him into 
her great mouth. He must have fought 
desperately, for nearly everything in the cabin 
was turned over. Great long cuts from the 
bear’s claws were to be seen on each of his 
shoulders. His left arm was nearly bitten 
off. He also inflicted such wounds in her 
that she was found dead a short distance 
from the cabin. But he evidently reached 
his knife too late. His strength gave out, and 
she fastened her great teeth in his throat. 
Then the struggle must have been short. 

“When his squaw returned, he was lying 
on the cabin floor in pools of blood. If I 
slept in such a place, I’d see all sorts of ghosts. 
Give me the rain.” 

A brief examination of the cabin convinced 
us also that we would prefer the open air. 
It had not been cleaned for months, and the 
[ 159 ] 


NED BREIVS TER^ S 


porcupines and birds had made it impossible 
for comfort without many hours of toil. 

“We’d better set to work and put up a 
birch-bark lean-to,” said dad. “The storm 
is not far away. The sky is already black. 
We may be here three or four days, and 
wet blankets would not be a great comfort 
for that length of time.” 

I had often heard dad and Mose speak of 
the birch-bark lean-to, but had never seen one 
constructed. 

There was a grove of birch near the cabin 
and an abundance of fir trees. Mose would 
cut through the bark with his ax, circling 
the entire tree. About four feet higher he 
would cut another circle. Then he would 
split the bark down the front and back of the 
trees, between the two circles, and peel it 
off. This gave strips four feet long, which he 
used to make our lean-to, as men use earthen 
tiles to make roofs of houses, alternating a 
piece of birch with one of fir, thinking this 
gave a better roof. Over the bark he placed 
poles so the wind could not blow it away. 

That night the rain came in torrents, but 
not a drop reached our blankets. We lay in 
comfort on the deep bed of fir boughs, and 
[ 160 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


went to sleep to the music of the rain pattering 
over our heads. 

“A morning for the gods!” shouted Mose, 
bringing us suddenly out of the land of sleep. 
“Cleared about midnight.” 

A big fire was crackhng, and the warmth 
came into our beds. The odor of the trout 
being fried with rich crisp bacon and the 
fragrance of the coffee reached our nostrils. 

“Up, quick I” shouted Mose. “Eat a 
bite and after the cubs ! We must see what 
kind of a country we are in.” 

There was certainly no time to be lost. 
The ground was soft, and it was easy to 
discover any track along the brooks or over 
the trails. We had not gone more than 
two hundred yards from camp when we found 
the footprints of the young bears. They 
were easy to follow, as they led directly to 
the berry patch, only a few hundred yards 
farther down. 

“Here is the place to capture the cubs,” 
said dad. “This is their feeding ground, 
and we will never have a better chance to 
take two small bears than right here.” 

We put out a large supply of molasses and 
meat to tempt them in addition to the berries, 
[ 161 ] 


NED BREI4^S TER^S 


placing the bait in an open spot, where it would 
be easy to secure a picture. 

Small snares were set all about the tempting 
morsels, in the hope that we might capture at 
least one of the cubs. 

“ If an old bear steps into one of the snares, 
there will be nothing left of it,” said Mose, 
“but it will hold a cub without doing it any 
harm.” 

“We’ll have to take our risk on that,’’ 
replied dad. “We’d better leave them now, 
go down the brook, and catch some trout.” 

We had eaten the last of our fish for break- 
fast and had only bacon for supper. About a 
mile away was a pool noted throughout the 
entire region for its big fish. I never saw 
such a sight in my life as when I looked into 
its clear water. Scores of trout were lying 
in the shadows of the rocks, lazily fanning 
their lacy fins in the crystal water. With 
great excitement dad put his rod together, 
chose what he thought was the best fly 
according to all the laws of angling, and gave 
it a graceful cast over the wide pool. Not 
a trout stirred ! 

“Try the Brown Hackle,” said Mose. 
“That’s the fly for this region.” 

[ 162 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


Then dad put on a Brown Hackle, a fly 
which looks like a little brown chestnut burr, 
gave it a fine cast, so it fell just at the head 
of the pool, and came skipping and dancing 
down between the bubbles, but still not a 
trout changed his place. 

Then Mose and dad held a conference and 
agreed to try everything in the brook until 
the right fly was found. The White Miller, 
the Montreal, the Silver Doctor, and the 
Yellow May were tried in succession, but not 
one could lure a trout to the surface. 

‘‘ Try that little Black Gnat,” said Mose. 

Never saw one of them work in these waters 
yet. Try it just for luck.” 

Then dad put on the Black Gnat and gave 
it a careless cast. Scarcely had it touched 
the surface when the largest trout in the pool 
seized it and made the reel sing. He ran from 
one side of the hole to the other and then 
plunged to the bottom, where he became 
entangled in the grass. We thought he 
would surely tear away, but the line was 
loosened, and he started again in his wild 
plunges. 

“Careful, or you will lose him !” cried Mose. 

Why men always give that advice to a 
[ 163 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^S 


fisherman in the most trying hour of life I 
have never been able to see. It only makes 
him more nervous and puts the odds against 
him. 

‘‘See him fight !” exclaimed Mose, again. 
“He’s giving you all you want !” 

Just then the fish plunged to the surface. 

“What a beauty !” we all cried together, as 
we caught a glimpse of him. 

“What a meal he will make, when we get 
back to camp !” I shouted. 

The fight lasted nearly half an hour. 

“Ready, Mose!” said dad, finally. “I’m 
going to bring him in.” 

Mose, who could always be trusted with 
the landing net, reached down to lay the 
spotted beauty at our feet. One lunge and 
he was gone ! The little Black Gnat tore from 
his mouth, and we returned to camp to eat 
greasy bacon. 

But when a man is in the woods, away 
from the artificial things of life, he soon 
learns that it is not what he eats, but the 
appetite he has that makes a good meal. 

The next morning by daylight we were 
on our way to the berry patch, hoping that 
the cubs had found our meat and molasses. 

[ 164 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


“Careful, now,” whispered Mose, as we 
approached the feeding ground. “If any 
bears are there, and we frighten them away, 
they will never return.” 

We crawled on our hands and knees, 
anxious not to stir a leaf or break a twig, 
to a little knoll from which we could overlook 
the greater part of the bushes. Dad took the 
strong field glass and examined carefully every 
inch of the ground, but there was not a sign of 
any animal. Only a few white-throated 
sparrows and j uncos were hopping about the 
red berries, making a breakfast of insects 
seasoned with raspberry juice. 

“I don’t believe there has been a thing here 
during the night,” said dad. “The bushes are 
hanging heavy with dew, and I can’t discover 
a spot where any of it has been knocked off.*” 
“They may come a little after sunrise,” 
replied Mose. “Sometimes they do not begin 
to move about until the chill is out of the air.” 

Dad was very skeptical about their coming, 
but we decided to wait until nine o’clock to 
see what would happen. The sun rose, a ball 
of red fire, over the very top of the high 
mountain, whose summit had been cleared by 
a destructive forest fire. 

[ 165 ] 


ED BREIV S TER’S 


Scarcely had the first ray shot down into 
the valley before the entire place became 
alive with birds and beasts. The screaming 
Canada jays, with a dress so out of taste 
with their rough, harsh voices, seemed to 
come from everywhere, — from the ground, 
from the bushes, and over the mountain. 
They filled the tree-tops and screamed and 
scolded. I finally discovered that the cause 
of their noise was a great horned owl, 
which had spent the night in one of the 
spruce trees. The jays had joined their 
forces and were making war on the big bird, 
determined to drive him out of the country. 
For a little while he sat with great dignity 
on an old limb, showing neither signs of fear nor 
impatience. But the jays continued to fill 
the trees. Judging from the noise and flutter, 
there must have been a hundred of them. 
One finally made a plunge at the old owl, 
giving him a blow on the back. Another 
struck him on the side, and a third gave 
him a rap on the top of the head. Then he 
began to lose his dignity and moved nervously 
from one foot to the other, until the blows 
came thicker and faster, and he considered 
it wiser to move to another tree. 

[ 166 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


When he started to fly, he was in more 
trouble than ever. The jays plunged at him 
from above and darted at him from beneath, 
hastening his flight and never giving him an 
opportunity to light on another tree, until they 
had driven him from their country. 

Half a dozen porcupines came out of the 
woods to feast on berries ; a doe and her fawn 
passed through the patch on their way to the 
brook; a huge bull moose walked through 
the patch on the opposite side of the clearing 
from where we sat. But there was no sign of 
a bear. 

A band of white-throated sparrows, not 
more than flfty feet from us, were busy gather- 
ing their breakfast. I am always interested 
in these flocks because one does not know what 
minute he will discover a white-crowned 
sparrow in their midst, a very rare bird in 
the northeastern part of our country. Half 
of the joy of life in the woods comes from 
finding some rare visitor which is discovered 
only by those who have learned to observe 
carefully. 

One bird after another hopped in front of 
us, seized some tiny insect, or gathered a few 
seeds. Each was interesting, but one finally 
[ 167 ] 


NED BREIVS TER^S 


came along which did not look quite like the 
others. Something about him compelled my 
attention. His breast was gray, with only 
a suggestion of white under his throat. Then 
I saw that the patch in front of his eye was 
black instead of white or yellow. It was a 
white-crowned sparrow, possibly one that had 
traveled all the way from the Missouri River 
to give me a glad surprise there in the New 
Brunswick woods. 

As they rose on wing and flew away, I saw 
Mose standing, tense as a setter, and like this 
fine hunter, actually pointing his nose and 
sniffing, as though he scented something not 
far away. Then I caught the quick motion of 
something through the brush. Dad saw it 
about the same time, and we were all alert, 
knowing that a bear was coming. 

For a few minutes we could not see the crea- 
ture. We thought he had gone back into the 
woods. Then came a sight we shall never 
forget. 

The old bear climbed upon an elevation, 
clear of all brush, from which she could over- 
look the entire berry patch. She threw her 
head in the air, pointed her nose toward 
heaven, and sniffed to catch any scent. She 
[ 168 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


made a statue no artist has ever carved, and 
even the knoll made a rough, wild base on 
which the statue rested. Then she came 
down and crept away into the brush when 
dad discovered two cubs some way behind 
her. 

She fed cautiously through the berries, never 
failing to stop eating at frequent intervals 
to sniff the air for any foe. 

Gradually she came nearer to us, until she 
was within fifty feet. The cubs had kept 
in the edge of the forest until they were 
within a few yards of us, leaving us directly 
between them and the large bear. 

I waited a second until she stepped into a 
clearing, then snapped her picture. 

“Hough! Hough! Hough! Hough!” 
roared Mose, as he jumped to his feet and 
threw his hands into the air. 

The old bear was so taken by surprise that 
she looked like a ball of black fur flying across 
the berry patch, never stopping until she 
reached the woods. Dad gave a yell that 
made the forest vibrate, as he started after 
the^cubs. I was at his heels, running as fast 
as I could and shouting with every breath. 
The two cubs were so overcome by the sudden 
[ 169 ] 


NED B REiyS T ER^S 


onslaught that they ran for the nearest tree 
and climbed, to the topmost branches. 

‘‘How will we ever capture them, now that 
we have them up a tree ^ ” asked Mose, as 
he stood looking at the frightened little 
creatures. 

“That’s easy,” said dad. “Climb the tree, 
throw a rope around their necks, and pull them 
down.” 

Mose thought this a good suggestion and 
started up the tree. 

The cubs, however, did not propose to be 
caught in such quarters. Scarcely had Mose 
started up the tree when they started down. 
He was not more than ten feet from the 
ground when the cubs gave a quick plunge, 
struck Mose’s shoulder, and bounded in mid- 
air. 

Mose was bewildered by the suddenness 
of the procedure. Before he could recover 
himself, the cubs were on the ground, while 
dad and I were after them, jumping over 
logs, tumbling over roots, throwing sticks 
and stones, trying to drive them up another 
tree. Dad hurled an old dried limb at one, 
hitting it just on the point of its nose. 

The little fellow was so frightened that he 
[ 170 ] 



Mose started up the Tree. Page 170 . 






BEAR HUNT 


turned quickly and ran up a spruce. The 
other one followed, and both ran again to the 
very top branches. Mose came along be- 
hind, scarcely yet fully recovered from his 
experience. 

“We will have to go about this more cau- 
tiously when we are dealing with such beasts !” 
exclaimed Mose, as he rubbed his shoulder, 
which had been scratched by one of the cubs, 
and looked up into the tree, muttering some- 
thing that was not very complimentary to 
either of them. 

“One thing is certain,” replied dad, “we 
cannot climb the tree. The only thing to 
do is to make a noose on the end of fifty or 
sixty feet of rope, put the noose on the end 
of a long pole, then slip it over a head, and 
pull the creature down.” 

This was easily done, and in a few minutes 
they were both prisoners on the end of the 
rope. 

“Now, wait,” said Mose, as we were about 
to pull the ropes and drag them to the earth. 
“If one should fall on his back, it would kill 
him ; if he landed on his feet, it would not be 
the easiest thing to put him in a bag. I have 
something better. Each of you hold a rope. 

[ 171 ] 


NED BREIVS TER^ S 


I will climb the tree, poke them down so the 
ropes will fall over branches ; then, when they 
dangle in the air, you can let them down 
gradually, and we will have no trouble putting 
each in a bag.” 

‘‘Capital idea !” said dad, as he walked to 
our packs and emptied our knapsacks. 

“They will just fit in them,” he explained 
as he held the sack up before us. “ The canvas 
is so thick they cannot bite through it. Once 
I get them in here. I’ll tie down the flaps, 
put them on my back, and take them home.” 

“I’ll hold open the bag,” said dad to Mose, 
“while you lower a cub into it.” 

That seemed very simple. One little fellow 
only weighed about eight pounds and could 
fit easily into the knapsack. 

There was only a single point on which 
we had failed to reckon, his kicking, tumbling 
legs. 

Just as we thought he was going to slip 
into the bag, one hind paw caught dad’s 
hand and left three bloody scratches from his 
wrist to the end of his fingers. 

Dad said something under his breath as 
he dropped the bag which evidently he did 
not intend to have in this story. 

[ 172 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


You’d better put on your gloves or you 
will not have any hands left,” said Mose. 

Dad looked at Mose as though he thought 
he was rather late with his information and 
then took two large sacks from the packs and 
wrapped them about his hands. 

“A man wants something more than gloves 
in this sort of business,” declared dad, as he 
returned to the task. “Now let him in with a 
quick jerk, so he will go in the bag before he 
knows what he is doing.” 

Mose released the rope and let the cub 
drop, but he caught on the side of the sack 
and quickly sprang out on dad’s shoulder. 

Dad gave a sharp rap with his hand to 
knock the cub off, but his claws went through 
dad’s shirt and held to a piece of his skin. 

Mose gave the rope a quick pull, which 
jerked the cub into the air, but it took a 
piece of shoulder along, which made dad 
yell. 

“He’d have scratched your neck off, if I 
hadn’t!” laughed Mose, as he saw dad’s 
temper. 

Dad began to show as much nervousness 
as the bear, but was as determined to capture 
him as the bear was to get away. 

[ 173 ] 


NED B REIVS TER’ S 


“Now let that rope down slowly,” said 
dad. “Let it slip so gradually that the cub 
will not know he is moving until he is in the 
sack.” 

Mose was just turning to his task, bracing 
himself for a new effort, when there was a 
terrible crashing through the brush. We all 
thought the old bear was returning to protect 
the cubs. Mose dropped the ropes, gave a 
few long leaps, and was half way up a tree 
before we knew what was happening. 

A huge cow moose darted into a runway and 
ran across the opening. Mose looked cheap 
enough as he climbed down the tree. 

“You fellows can laugh, but I’ll be up a 
tree when that old bear arrives.” 

“You need not worry,” replied dad. “I 
am satisfied that bear is not the mother of 
these cubs. She would never have deserted 
them, if she had been.” 

As Mose had dropped the ropes, one had 
become entangled in the tree and held the 
cub securely. The other cub had run away 
with fifty feet of rope dragging behind him, 
but he had not gone far before the rope 
caught a stump and made him a prisoner. 

We were not compelled to repeat the 
[ 174 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


experiment of putting them in the bag. They 
were both on the ground, so we could work 
with them more easily. 

Taking smaller ropes, we fastened their hind 
legs and their front legs together; then, making 
loops in the ropes, we bound them to a pole 
which we swung on our shoulders and, with 
the cubs dangling between us, started for 
camp. 


[ 175 ] 


NED BREIVS TER^ S 


CHAPTER THIRTEEN 

THE BEAVER COLONY 

N ot far from our camp was the largest 
beaver colony I had ever seen. These 
busy dam builders had not been 
molested for years by either the trapper or 
the hunter, and their works had not been 
disturbed by lumbermen. 

No one in the region could tell how many 
generations of beavers had worked here, and 
each successive generation had added some- 
thing to the colony. Beginning with a short 
dam across a small mountain brook, they had 
gradually extended it until the main dam 
measured over four hundred feet and held 
back a body of water nearly a mile in length. 
Three or four houses were scattered along the 
pond, and networks of smaller dams created 
many bays, which pushed far back into the 
woods and the low parts of the meadow. 
They had not only made a home for them- 
[ 176 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


selves, but also for the sharp-billed mosquitoes, 
the black flies, and the midges. The stories of 
these torturers of travelers in the far north 
have restrained many an ardent explorer from 
entering those regions, but if there is a spot 
on the earth where more of these pests can be 
found to the square inch than about this pond, 
it must be in some infernal region where the 
Good Spirit consigns all insects for their mis- 
deeds. It was in July when I built my 
blinds to watch for the beavers, and at the end 
of the third day, there was not a square inch 
on my face or hands which might not have 
been taken for raw beefsteak. 

At flrst, I thought I had solved the problem 
of protection from these pests. A sporting 
house had persuaded me to buy a net which 
came over my head and face and tied securely 
about my neck. The enthusiastic clerk had 
assured me that with this protection I could sit 
in contempt of the hordes of mosquitoes which 
swarmed about me and laugh at them in 
derision. I went to the beaver pond, sat down 
with a feeling of safety, watched the mosquitoes 
fly about my head, and began to smile at 
their frantic efforts to push through the netting 
and bore into my flesh. Then I felt some- 
[ 177 ] 


NED BREWS TER^ S 


thing warm on the back of my neck, then on 
my nose, then in several spots on my face. In 
five minutes I thought I was in flames. The 
ardent clerk had forgotten one thing : that the 
head net would not keep out the midges, and 
before I could untie the string and throw the 
net with disgust into the pond, I was suffering 
as though covered with coals of fire. The 
“no-see-’ems,” as the Indians rightly named 
the midges, had covered me, crawled into my 
hair, ears, eyes, and nostrils, bored into my 
skin, and were making life unbearable. After 
such an experience, there was nothing to do 
but expose myself to the vicious onslaughts of 
the mosquitoes and black flies, and for two 
weeks I sat in the blinds and saw the blood 
slowly drawn from my veins until I felt there 
was little left. 

But it paid. I havq never seen such an 
active beaver colony. The animals seemed to 
work day and night. For the first three days 
I made no attempt to secure pictures, but 
watched the busy creatures at their work, and 
studied their habits. 

The second morning, I saw a beaver as he 
started to cut a tree. It was a birch more 
than a foot in diameter. The courageous little 
[ 178 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


worker had only his small front teeth with 
which to fell it, but without any hesitation 
he started on his task. He sat down on his 
hind legs, used his big tail to brace himself, 
and began to gnaw. There was not a minute 
of hesitation. The chips flew as from the tiny 
ax of a brownie. Occasionally he would 
give his head a twist to one side to force out a 
piece of wood, and then continue to whittle. 

It was an amazingly short process. I had 
expected to sit and watch him at his work the 
entire day, but within an hour and a half of 
the time he started the great tree fell crashing 
into the pond. 

There were several trees that had been cut 
in former times which told that other beavers 
had not judged as well as had this one. Three 
or four large spruce trees and two birches 
had been cut by the beavers, but these trees 
had become entangled in the branches of 
surrounding evergreens and had been held 
securely, destroying the theory that these 
creatures always accurately judge whether a 
tree will fall to the ground before they cut it. 

The crash of the felled tree seemed to be a 
call to the logging crew about the pond. 
Several beavers came within a few minutes 
[ 179 ] 


iV£D BREPVS TER^ S 


to join the faithful cutter, and all together 
began to trim away the small twigs, cut the 
branches from the trunk, and finally to cut 
the great tree into short logs, all of which was 
floated down the pond near the house and 
stored as food for the coming winter. 

One day as I crept along the shores of the 
pond, step by step, waiting to survey the 
country, hiding behind brush and trees that 
I might not be discovered, I found the beavers 
at work repairing an old, deserted house. I 
surmised that some elder brothers and their 
wives had concluded to leave the old home and 
set up housekeeping for themselves, and, 
instead of building a new palace, had decided 
to repair one that had partly fallen into ruin. 
Two beavers were busy carrying sticks and 
mud to the dome of their mansion, working as 
eagerly as a prospective bride with her lover 
about their new apartment. To approach 
without frightening them away was impossible, 
and I knew a fright would send them into 
hiding from which they would not emerge 
until after dark. 

The next day at noon, when the sun was 
pouring down its hottest rays, and I thought 
no beaver would venture out of water on the 
[ 180 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


land, I crept down to the house to see if an 
approach was possible. Looking through my 
field glasses, I surveyed every foot of water, 
each hidden nook and brush heap, to see if a 
single beaver was on guard. Not one could 
be discovered. Then I crept down to the 
house, and within fifteen feet of it saw two 
small spruces. I crawled behind them, broke 
a few branches from surrounding trees, and in 
a few minutes was securely hidden behind a 
blind. 

The first two hours in that blind will never 
be forgotten. It is hard to conceive how 
brimstone could have made the torture more 
severe than did the black flies and mosquitoes. 
I once saw a man break down and cry like a 
baby under similar punishment. It was only 
disgust with myself for submitting to such 
pain that kept me from weeping. 

I was about to build a smudge to keep the 
tormentors away, trusting to what little 
wind there was to carry the smoke from the 
pond, when I saw something dividing the 
waters and discovered a beaver swimming 
directly for the house. He had no suspicion 
of any danger, came without hesitation to the 
dome of his palace, climbed upon it, and started 
[ 181 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


to work. He seemed to know just the spots 
which needed repairing, just where the roof 
leaked, and what parts needed strengthening. 
He refused, however, to take a position where 
I could snap a picture, and I wondered if I was 
to lose an opportunity after all the torture 
I had endured. Then he started down the 
dome of his house, evidently to secure mud 
to cement the sticks together, when he discov- 
ered my blind. Even the few branches I had 
placed before me had changed the appearance 
of things. His keen eye had caught the 
change, and by his very attitude I could tell 
he was soon to plunge into the water. Not 
daring to wait longer, though his position 
was far from what I had hoped to obtain, 
I snapped the camera and caught him with a 
frightened look in his eye and his clumsy 
body all tense, as he was about to roll from 
the lower edge of his house into the pond. 

I knew it would not be wise to return to 
this spot until the beavers had become ac- 
customed to the blind, nor did I have any in- 
clination to watch again until the fly bites had 
healed. It was a week before I took up my 
stand once more, and then, sitting down in 
my blind at high noon, as I had previously 
[ 182 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


done, I proceeded to study the house. There 
was not any sign that a beaver had been on it 
since my last visit, no fresh mud or sticks 
being anywhere visible. The mosquitoes were 
as numerous as ever and lost not a second in 
beginning their attack. It was a dreary out- 
look between these insect pests and the fact 
that the beavers had apparently discontinued 
their work. 

But I had learned from long experience 
in photographing wild animals that all specu- 
lation was useless, that the only sure way to 
secure pictures was simply to sit down and 
wait. Even in this case my stoical philosophy 
did not fail me. Two large beavers swam 
up the pond and came toward the house. 
One, without any hesitation, climbed out of 
the water, walked clumsily over the dome, 
and then lazily lay down, turned her back to 
me, stretched out her long, fleshy tail, and 
began to bathe herself in the soft rays of the 
afternoon sun. 

It was an almost irresistible temptation 
to snap her picture. I knew not how long she 
would remain in her position nor how soon 
some drifting current of air would carry my 
scent to her keen nostrils. But the second 
[ 183 ] 


h! ED B REIVS TER^ S 


beaver was still swimming about the house, 
playfully diving into the water and apparently 
enjoying an afternoon of good fun. Would 
he, too, come on the roof of the house ? I 
dared not move lest the one sunning herself 
should detect a motion and plunge quickly 
into the pond. Not even a hand could be 
lifted to scrape away the thick coating of 
mosquitoes tumbling over each other to find a 
place on my face not already occupied. Each 
minute seemed like an hour. My fiesh quivered 
under the piercing bills which were drawing 
away my blood. It was the hardest temp- 
tation I ever had to endure to sit with a 
beaver within a few feet of my camera, in 
an excellent pose to show the queer tail which 
adds much interest to the animal, and not 
snap a picture. 

Finally the beaver in the pond swam within 
three or four feet of the house, looked up and 
down the shore to discover any foe lurking 
in the brush, and then climbed from the water. 
As though nothing concerned him and as 
though he had no need to think of danger, 
he walked over the sticks and mud. Possibly 
it was the sight of one beaver enjoying a 
delightful sun bath which gave him such 
[ 184 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


confidence. Then I accidentally touched the 
camera with my knee, making a slight noise. 
In a second he was all attention. I dared not 
wait longer. The shutter of my camera 
fell, the beavers rushed for the pond, slapped 
the water with their tails, making the forest 
echo with the sound, and then swam away 
to safety. But they left behind a good nega- 
tive of two beavers on a house. 

On my journeys to and from the beaver 
pond, I had discovered that work was being 
done each day on the largest dam. This was 
probably due to the fact that more rain had 
fallen during the spring and summer than had 
been known for many seasons. The lakes 
in the region were full, and the streams were 
swollen. This extra rain had filled the pond, 
and the water was running over the top of 
the dam. The beaver seems to have an in- 
stinctive desire to save every drop of water, 
that comes into the pond, and to do this the 
members of this colony were busy tightening 
their dam and strengthening it where it was 
weak. 

After careful examination, I found that they 
were working chiefly at one end, where the 
main stream had originally flowed and where 
[ 185 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


there was more leakage and pressure than at 
any other point. 

The bank was thickly covered with brush, 
so that I had to disturb scarcely a thing to 
make myself securely hidden. Two or three 
spruce boughs and the clearing away of a 
few twigs made an ideal blind. Seating my- 
self on an old log at the edge of the water, 
I waited behind the brush to see what would 
happen. 

I had been there only a few minutes when I 
saw a beaver swimming toward the dam. 
When about a hundred feet from me, he 
slipped under the water as easily as though 
he had been greased. I played my eyes 
eagerly over the pond to see where he would 
appear next, but there was not a sign of him. 
I felt sure he must be committing suicide by 
drowning. Then I saw a motion on the dam, 
and, looking quickly, just caught a glimpse of 
the beaver as he was slipping back in the 
water. He had climbed on the dam, rooted up 
some fresh mud, and entered the pond again 
before my dull eyes saw him. 

My only comfort was that he had not seen 
me. He continued to swim about the pond 
as though inspecting the dam to discover the 
[ 186 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


next place that ought to be repaired. Then 
he caught sight of the extra boughs I had 
placed in the brush, and he swam toward 
me to observe things more closely. He made 
his approach in circles. He would come each 
time on my left, circle in front of me, and 
then, when he had turned and his back was 
toward me, he would dive, not coming up 
again until he was some distance away. The 
first time he came within fifty feet, then 
forty, then twenty-five, then fifteen. Finally 
he grew much bolder, swam within five feet 
of my camera, and stopped to look at the 
shining brass on my lenses. Just his head 
and back were visible in the water. He was so 
near that I could see his eyebrows and the 
whiskers about his nose in the finder of my 
camera. 

Then the shutter clicked, and he plunged 
into the depths, striking the water viciously 
with his tail as he went down. If there was 
a beaver within a quarter of a mile, he cer- 
tainly heard the warning and scampered 
away. 

The next day, about three o’clock in the 
afternoon, another beaver swam down the 
pond. When he was within a hundred feet 
[ 187 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


of me, he dove as the one had done on the 
previous day, I turned my eyes toward the 
dam. In a minute his dark brown head 
emerged above the surface, and he started 
to climb from the water. His wet fur shone 
in the afternoon sun, and his small, keen eyes 
glistened. When he was about half way out 
of the pond, I snapped him, then sat and 
watched him as he added his mite of work 
to the dam building of the day. He poked 
up the mud much as a hog would ; rooted it 
with his nose from the lower part of the dam 
to the top, stopped a small break in a sur- 
prisingly short time and then went away. 
When he was a dozen or more feet from the 
dam, he dove beneath the surface and dis- 
appeared. I have noticed that this is a com- 
mon habit among beavers. They usually 
dive as they are going from the dam. 

Neither of these beavers had caught my 
scent nor discovered my presence. I knew 
they would continue their work, and the next 
day I went into the blind, determined not to 
snap a picture until something unusual should 
happen. 

At two o’clock a beaver came down the pond 
and climbed on the dam. Though he showed 
[ 188 ] 



Two Beavers on their House. Page 185. 



Beavers on their Dam. Page 190. 







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% ra 



I'-* 1.. v< 

* • • I 

i. 

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BEAR HUNT 


no signs of nervousness or hurry, he accom- 
plished an unusual amount of work in less 
than a minute. I had taken a long pole, 
pushed some of the sticks from the top of the 
dam, removed some of the mud, making a 
small opening through which the water poured, 
washing away earth and rocks as it plunged 
through the break, forming a channel nearly 
a foot deep. This beaver carried a small log, 
threw it into the hole, forced up more mud 
by his blunt nose, and in less time than a 
man could have repaired the break, the place 
was sealed so that not a drop of water could 
leak through. 

To my surprise the creature showed no 
inclination to return to the pond. He walked 
a dozen feet along the dam and then squatted 
down to sun himself. His head was pointing 
toward me, yet he seemed to take no notice of 
the blind, but sat in perfect contentment in the 
sun. 

Remembering my experience at the beaver 
house, the thought flashed through my mind 
that another beaver might come to the dam 
and enable me to secure a picture of two 
furry creatures together. For an hour there 
was not a sign of life, except a kingflsher which 
[ 189 ] 


NED BREIVS TER^ S 


plunged repeatedly into the pond, seizing 
small fish and devouring them on the top of 
an old tamarack stump. It was a strain to 
sit looking into the eyes of a beaver so near 
and not know at what minute something 
would frighten him and cause him to spring 
into the water. My camera was keyed to high 
speed for such an emergency, and I was tense, 
ready to snap a picture on the least sign of 
motion. 

Then I saw a second beaver coming down 
the pond. I thought by his actions that he was 
going directly to the dam. Just before reach- 
ing it, he began to swim in circles, diving and 
turning again and again, as though he intended 
to go to his house. Once I thought he had 
gone and was about to snap the lone beaver, 
when I saw him returning. When at the 
usual distance, he dove beneath the surface, 
and the next thing I saw of him his brown 
head was coming out of the water at the dam. 
He was not more than four feet from the first 
beaver. He hesitated a minute, then lifted 
himself out of water. The other beaver began 
to grow nervous. I dared not wait another 
second. They heard the camera click and 
plunged into the pond. They were terribly 
[ 190 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


frightened, and, though I returned many times 
to the same spot, I never saw them again, 
and the only signs of their activity were left 
at night. 

All through these days I had been waiting 
at the beaver house and the dam, the animals 
had been busy cutting wood. I discovered 
several trees that had been cut during my 
absence, and once or twice in the stillness of 
the forest I had heard them crashing into the 
pond. It was evidently the logging season 
with the colony, and if the amount of wood was 
any prophecy of the coming winter, as some 
old trappers declare, there was every reason to 
look forward to one of exceeding severity. 

As I sat looking over the wood yard, trying 
to discover a woodchopper somewhere, I 
heard a rustling among the leaves. Turning 
my eyes, I saw something which looked like 
a porcupine, but a second look revealed a 
beaver. His fur, so coveted by the ladies, 
had disappeared with the cold weather, and 
his shaggy, coarse hair, darkened in the 
shadows of the forest, gave him the appearance 
of a quillpig. 

It was a dark spot, and there was only one 
chance to secure his picture. An opening in 
[ 191 ] 


NED BREIVS TER^ S 


the trees let a beam of sun strike the ground 
within a dozen feet of me, and in the very 
path of the beaver. If he did not discover 
me and turn, I would have a wonderful 
picture of a beaver on land. He came forward 
clumsily, without any apparent thought of 
danger, to within twenty feet of me. Oh, for a 
ray of sunlight to fall in time ! Then he 
walked into the very spot where I wanted him, 
and I caught a picture of the lumberman on 
the path to his work. 

In some way, there was nothing in the woods 
which interested me more than this beaver 
colony. Mose declared he would not sit and 
be tortured by the flies and mosquitoes if he 
never made a day’s wage in his life. Dad 
simply could not endure the pain. Each 
mosquito bite made a great lump on his 
flesh, and if he had sat in the blind with me, 
he would have been in agony, and his eyes 
would have been closed. I had to watch 
the dam builders alone, and, though the 
suffering was intense, I felt repaid for all I 
had endured. 

Some men may look with contempt upon the 
beaver, class him with the despised muskrat, 
and declare that he has no high-grade in- 
[ 192 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


telligence, but I can quite understand how the 
Indians regarded him with rehgious feeling 
and how he has always appealed so strongly 
to the imagination of men. His works are 
wonderful ; they can be seen so clearly, 
they are so perfect in their construction, and, 
taken together, they make a world so complete 
in itself. 


[ 193 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


CHAPTER FOURTEEN 

BUNDY 

T he family of snowshoe rabbits which 
had its home in the thick bushes in 
front of our cabin door was kindly 
protected by nature during each season of the 
year. In the summer, their backs and sides 
were a russet color, making it difficult to see 
them on the brown, parched earth. Many 
times I have seen them hop into a clump of 
brush and have stood looking for several 
minutes before I could finally discover one 
sitting on the little ball of cotton which he 
always carries with him, as still as though 
frozen to the ground, yet looking very wise. 
In winter his coat turns white, so that his 
enemy may pass very near but never discover 
him against the background of snow. 

Yet this little white hare did not depend 
wholly on the protection nature had given her 
for her safety. She had a family of tiny 
bunnies to protect, and all through the woods 
[ 194 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


were wandering hungry lynxes, foxes, and 
black cats, eager to find such a family to 
satisfy their appetites. When the old mother 
left the little ones, she did not fail to impress 
upon them the first lesson the rabbit must 
learn : the necessity of lying low on the ground 
and not moving when anything came near. 

The greatest question we had about camp 
was the securing of food for two great hungry 
cub bears. We had brought with us a large 
supply of Indian meal, but it was soon evident 
that unless this was supplemented by animal 
food from the forest, that our own food sup- 
plies would be exhausted, and we would be 
compelled to leave the woods. 

The rule was that nothing should be shot 
about the camp. We were still holding to 
this law, even with the red squirrels, though 
they were greatly trying our patience. The 
young woodchucks were so tame that I could 
easily approach within a few feet of them, 
and the rabbits came into our cabins to gather 
food from the floors. It was fully understood 
that it would be considered high treason to 
betray the confidence of any one of these 
camp pets, even though the bears should go 
hungry. 


[ 195 ] 


NED B RE^VS T E S 


One day it was raining hard and the bears 
were without food. It was necessary for us 
to go into the woods to secure something 
for them, or there would be no rest for us 
day or night from their constant howling. 

George took the small rifle and started 
down the tote road in search of something 
that might be cooked for them and keep 
them quiet during the night. He had not 
gone more than two hundred yards when we 
heard the report of his gun. He evidently 
thought he was beyond the line where shooting 
was prohibited and, not caring to walk any 
farther than necessary in the rain, he had 
shot the first rabbit he had discovered. 

Three days later we were all in the hovel. It 
had been raining for a week, — a cold, dreary 
rain, and we were sitting about on poles 
and barrels, telhng stories and trying to make 
a little sunshine for ourselves. 

“What’s that.^” whispered dad, suddenly 
pointing in a dark corner of the hovel. 

There, in the shadows, we could just outline 
a tiny rabbit, not more than two or three weeks 
old, sitting on his tail, his ears erect, as though 
all attention. 

“George, you and Ned guard the door so 
[ 196 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


he cannot run out, while Mose and I capture 
him,” said dad, seeing the possibility of a 
little excitement to relieve the monotony 
of the rainy weather. 

George and I took our places as we had 
been ordered. Dad began the stalk. He 
crept quietly into the dark corner, crouching 
down with both hands, ready to seize the 
little mite if he moved. Mose followed closely 
behind, while dad stole nearer. When he was 
within four or five feet, he gave a quick 
lunge and clutched the rabbit. 

“Great luck!” I shouted, thinking what a 
pet it would make, and was just about to add 
more when I noticed the expression on dad’s 
face. 

“You fellows think you are smart, don’t 
you !” dad exclaimed, at the same time 
throwing the rabbit down on the floor and 
looking first at one and then the other of us. 

The little thing was dead, stiff and cold, 
but dad soon saw by the look on our faces 
that none of us had played a trick on him. 

“It is one of the babies of the old mother 
you shot the other day,” Mose said to George. 

“That’s just it,” I added. “The poor little 
thing has crawled in here and died.” 

[ 197 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


“That is the way the wild beasts die,” 
continued Mose. “They creep into some 
dark place where they think no one will ob- 
serve them, and then alone and unseen they 
pass away.” 

I felt as though I was at a funeral, and 
all the others talked in a subdued tone as 
though they were in the house of the dead. 
George seemed to feel it more than the others, 
because he had been the cause of all this suffer- 
ing. 

It was a little too much for my nerves, and 
I walked out of the hovel and down toward 
the cabin. Just as I went out of the door, 
I saw something moving in the grass. There 
was another rabbit, the tiniest one I had 
ever seen. The poor little thing was drenched 
in the rain and was trembling from the wet and 
cold. 

I seized it without any difficulty and 
found that one eye was out. Probably it 
had run a stick into it, while hopping about the 
brush looking for its mother, or it might 
have been attacked by some wild animal and 
injured. 

In a little while Blindy, the name with which 
we christened the little orphan, was the 
[ 198 ] 


BEAR HUN T 


center of interest in the camp. George was 
especially attentive to her. Several times 
each day he would search the grass beds about 
the hovel for the tenderest clover leaves, and 
he often went into the woods to bring back 
the buds which he thought would appeal 
most strongly to her taste. 

Mose built a nice warm box, well lined with 
straw, which he placed in the kitchen, where 
Blindy slept at night, and he made a pen 
of long poles where she could play during the 
day, enjoying the sunshine and nibbling 
the new grass. 

One night George and Mose were awakened 
suddenly from a sound sleep by the shrill 
cries of Blindy calling for help. There was 
a great commotion in her box, and she was 
fighting for her life. 

“A weasel !” exclaimed Mose, as he sprang 
from his bunk and rushed to Blindy’s relief. 

Sure enough, a weasel had Blindy by the 
throat, was choking off her breath, and drawing 
away her life blood. The stubborn, blood- 
thirsty little brute would not release its hold 
until Mose struck it a severe blow with a 
stick and gave a savage shout that frightened 
it away. 


[ 199 ] 


NED B REIVS T ER^S 


“He’s fixed her all right, I guess,” said 
Mose, as George hobbled over to see the result 
of the tragedy. 

She was lying on her side, breathing hard, 
with h^r life just ebbing away. 

“Give her a drop of brandy,” said George. 
“It will stimulate her heart, and maybe we 
can save her yet.” 

“I’ll build a fire,” replied Mose, “and 
heat some cloths to wrap her in while you 
give her the brandy.” 

It was a strange sight to see those two hardy 
woodsmen working over that little rabbit, 
trying to nurse her back to fife. George sat 
up with her all night, giving her a drop of 
brandy every two hours and keeping her warm. 
Mose, who loved his sleep so much, did not 
stop until he felt certain she had a good 
chance for her life. Then he went back to 
the bunk, but rose early the next morning, 
eager to know her condition. 

Blindy hung between life and death for 
two or three days. We were not quite sure 
whether it was wholly the work of the weasel 
or partly George’s brandy that gave her such 
a struggle for existence. But in the after- 
noon of the third day she began to nibble the 
[ 200 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


clover leaves, and then we felt certain that 
her kind nurses had saved her life. 

She had lost her sight completely in one 
eye. I think it was the appearance of this 
eye, as well as her entire history, which 
awakened such sympathy for her in the 
guides. She was always nervous, especially 
whenever any one approached her on the 
blind side, and both guides would sit in front 
of her pen by the hour, talking quietly and 
trying to calm her fluttering heart. 

One day, while we were eating our supper, 
we heard a terrible noise outside the cabin. 

“What’s the matter with the jays ?” asked 
Mose. 

The trees were full of these beautiful 
Canadian birds. Each one was screaming 
and chattering at the top of its voice, flying 
about and circling a tall spruce tree only a 
short distance from the camp. 

Then an owl darted from the tree, spread its 
big wings, and made a swoop directly for the 
pen of Blindy. Mose jumped from the cabin 
to save his pet. The owl saw him and 
turned. Then the jays flew by the scores as 
though they would devour the intruder, 
whirled about him, struck his back, pecked 
[ 201 ] 


NED B REIVS T ER^S 


at his tail, and threatened his destruction. 
They gave him no opportunity to rest in a 
tree, but continued their onslaught until they 
drove him from the clearing. 

“I don’t know of anything that has a 
harder time in the woods than a rabbit,” 
said Mose, as he returned from the pen. 
‘‘Can’t tell whether a savage lynx may not be 
looking out of the brush now, planning how he 
can steal Blindy. Fishers, mink, hawks, owls, 
and skunks, — everything depends upon the 
poor rabbit for food.” 

But Blindy had good friends, and, in spite 
of all her natural enemies, she regained her 
strength and grew to be a strong, active 
bunnie, so active that Mose thought she 
ought to have more room to play, and, believ- 
ing that she would not run away if given her 
freedom, he tore down the walls of her pen 
and let her scamper away into the brush. 

She never returned to sleep in her box at 
night, but she would play about the cabin 
as though delighted with her liberty, and 
each morning and evening she would follow 
Mose until he gave her some dainty to eat. 

It was not long, however, before we began 
to realize that each day she had some thrilling 
[ 202 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


adventure and that only her swift legs and her 
knowledge of the runways and the hiding 
places saved her life. 

One morning we saw the track of a fox 
leading up the tote road. He had passed 
directly in front of the cabin and then had 
gone into the brush where Bhndy slept for the 
night. Following his footprints, we saw where 
she had darted along in front of him. He had 
made several long leaps to seize her, but she 
had slipped through a few narrow openings, 
with which she was perfectly familiar, where 
the fox could not go, and thus had reached 
the small hole under the hovel before the fox 
could overtake her. 

We discovered another day where a whole 
family of skunks had come up the tote road. 
They had left some of their pungent odor 
in front of the cabin, which was the first 
sign we had in the morning that they had 
visited us. 

There must have been great excitement in 
the brush pile that night. Skunk tracks 
were everywhere, leading back and forth 
on every runway. Mingling with them were 
the footprints of Blindy. She must have 
used all the knowledge she ever had and all 
[ 203 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^S 


her skill in running and dodging, to escape with 
her life from that hungry group of hunters. 

I often wondered if there was not much 
enjoyment in all these adventures for her, 
and if she really did not take delight in out- 
witting the keenest of the wood folk and 
outrunning the swiftest of them. 

She certainly had great fun enticing Eli 
to the chase, when Jaque brought him over 
for a visit, and in leading him into all sorts 
of tangled places where the thorns would stick 
into his flesh. 

One runway was especially treacherous. 
There was a clear run for fifty feet, and then 
came a sudden turn at a blind spot, just 
beyond which was a deep mudhole, filled 
with green, slimy water. 

One day Eli was sitting by the cabin when 
Blindy came from the brush to feed. Eli 
lunged for her, and she started full speed down 
the path. Eli saw her white tail bobbing 
ahead of him, and the sight seemed to 
madden him. He redoubled his efforts, made 
several leaps, and was about to seize the white 
bunch in his mouth, when she made a quick 
turn. Eli rolled into the mudhole, sank al- 
most out of sight in the dirty water, and then 
[ ^204 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


crawled back to the cabin. He skulked along 
with his tail between his legs as though so 
humiliated that he could never look again 
into our eyes. 

It was Eli’s turn, however, to laugh the next 
night. We were sitting in the dingle, en- 
joying the cool evening air. The day had 
been hot and sultry, and the mosquitoes were 
swarming by the millions about the cabins. 
A smudge pail was sending out volumes of 
heavy smoke, which enveloped us and kept 
the tormentors from our faces. Eli lay close 
by the pail, looking toward the brush pile. 

Blindy came hopping from her hiding place 
and began to play about the yard. 

"‘Still, now,” said Jaque to Eli, as the dog 
was preparing to make a lunge for the little 
rabbit. 

Every muscle in Eli’s body was quivering 
as he saw her hop within a few feet of us, but 
he had learned never to disobey his master. 

The night hawks began to fly in front of us, 
feeding upon the insects that filled the air. 
Then one big hawk darted toward the ground 
and lit within a foot of Blindy’s nose. 

She was so startled that she jumped, fell 
over on her back, and went through several 
[ 205 ] 


NED B REIVS T ER^S 


ridiculous contortions before she was able 
to regain her feet. She thought a great hawk 
had plunged for her, and she was paralyzed 
by the fright. It was Eli’s turn to laugh, and 
he seemed to enjoy the sport no less than the 
members of our party. 

It was several days before we saw anything 
more of Blindy. 

“She’s running yet,” said Mose, when dad 
remarked one evening on her absence from 
the camp. “She’s never stopped since that 
fright.” 

A week later we were sitting in front of the 
cabins when we saw her come out of the woods 
nearly a hundred yards down the tote road. 
She could not renew her courage to return to 
the yard. The memory of the hawk was too 
vivid. She did not seem like the same rabbit, 
as she hopped about the grass. She was alert, 
stopping a second to feed, and then looking 
into the sky and through the brush to dis- 
cover the approach of an enemy. 

“Strange how animals will desert a place 
after they are frightened,” said George, as 
we watched her feed. 

“Look!” whispered Mose. “What’s that 
just above her.^^” 


[ 206 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


The words had scarcely left the lips of Mose 
when a gray streak darted through the 
shadows; there were two or three shrill shrieks 
of a rabbit, and Blindy was gone. 

“A lynx !” shouted Mose. 

We jumped to our feet and started down the 
road, shouting, throwing rocks, and hurling 
sticks. 

When we reached the spot where Blindy 
had been feeding, there was not a sound. 
We searched through the brush, but there 
was not a sign of the rabbit. The lynx had 
seized her in his mouth, crushed out her life 
by his cruel teeth, and trotted away with 
her into the woods. 

Added to this excitement was the report 
Jaque had brought us concerning the return 
of Levesque. 

‘Tie swear vengeance on you feller,” said 
Jaque, as he sat about the camp telling the 
news that had been brought from the settle- 
ment. 

“He was too frightened to ever trouble us,” 
said dad, by way of assurance to Jaque. 

“Ah, John Dolan tell ’im all ’bout dat big 
light. He know now. No fool ’im any 
more.” 

[ 207 ]^ 


NED BREIVST ER^ S 


Though none of us said anything, there was 
an uneasy feeling throughout our party. We 
did not know what Levesque might do, and 
as Jaque left us, making his farewell as he 
left the woods for the season, it was with the 
final instruction that, if he saw Levesque, he 
was to gain all the information he could and 
then return to us. 


[ 208 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


CHAPTER FIFTEEN 

THE CUB BEARS 

T he main "^cabin of our camp was used 
to store duffle rather than as a sleep- 
ing room, as it had been used in the 
days of the lumber crew. The row of bunks 
about the cabin which the woodsmen had left 
served as an excellent place to keep all of our 
material not used in the kitchen. It was 
several feet from the ground and perfectly dry. 
This was especially desirable for our photo- 
graphic material. 

In one corner of this cabin we built a pen 
for the cubs, using the two walls of the room 
for half of the cage and building the other two 
sides and the top of strong wire netting, which 
we had taken with us for this very purpose. 

We had a merry time training the cubs on 
the chain and teaching them the way to 
behave in captivity. One was quick as light- 
ning, while the other was noisy as thunder, 
hence at dad’s suggestion we named them 
Donner and Blitzen, the German words for 
[ 209 ] 


NED BREWS T ER^S 


thunder and lightning. Before we could place 
a hand on Blitzen, she would spring out of the 
way, climb a pole, and leap from beam to 
beam in the cabin. The only way we could 
possibly entice her down was with a tempting 
bit of cheese. On the other hand, Donner 
was very easy to manage. He seemed to 
take naturally to the chain and permitted 
us to lead him without the least resistance. 
But as the sun began to sink behind the tree 
tops and the shadows in the cabin began to 
deepen, Donner would set up such a howl 
that neither rest nor sleep were possible. It 
was only after several vigorous floggings that 
we were able to break him of these thunderous 
habits. 

There was as much difference between the 
dispositions of the two cubs as between two 
children of the same home. Blitzen had a 
great deal of independence and did not care 
to be dragged about on a chain. She would 
stubbornly resist and insisted that she had 
a right to go where she chose or at least should 
not be pulled as though she was nothing 
more than a stick of wood. 

Donner, on the other hand, would meekly 
submit to the chain and go wherever we took 
[ 210 ] 



Blitzen would take Dainty Bits from our Hands as gently as a Baby. 

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BEAR HUNT 


him. But his apparent goodness and obedi- 
ence were only superficial. He was ugly and 
treacherous, never losing an opportunity to 
snap at us or to scratch us with his big claws. 
If he could sneak behind us, he was sure to 
strike us on the back with his paw, and either 
tear our clothes or leave some sign of his 
sharp nails on our flesh. If we attempted to 
stroke his soft fur, one of his quick paws 
would strike our hands before we could possi- 
bly draw them back, usually leaving long 
scratches on our flesh. Blitzen would take 
dainty bits from our hands as gently as a baby, 
but we soon learned that if we were to have 
any fingers left, we would have to keep them 
away from the snappy, greedy mouth of 
Donner. We had had him only a few days 
when dad was introducing him to the joys of 
eating cheese. Without any warning, he 
lunged for the food and, seizing dad by the 
finger, sent his tiny, sharp teeth to the bone. 

Webster defined a bear as a carnivorous 
animal, which clearly shows that the great 
man knew more about dictionaries than he did 
about bears. But the wise Noah may be 
excused; for it is a common idea among 
people that the bear is a meat-eating animal. 

[ 211 ] 


NED BREWS TER^ S 


This, however, is far from the truth. There 
are bears in the woods which probably never 
taste meat from the beginning to the end of 
the year. Occasionally they find the carcass 
of a deer or moose left by some hunter, and 
then they have a feast for several days on 
moose steaks and venison. At very rare 
intervals, when pushed by a gnawing hunger, 
they may attack a young calf moose or small 
deer. But most of their food is vegetable. 
In the summer season they live on berries, and 
in the fall they have a good supply of nuts; 
while the bark and roots of trees also supply 
them with food when all other kinds fail. 
Their dainties are in the form of ants and 
beetles and grubs, which they find by ripping 
open decaying logs and overturning stones. 

We had foreseen this problem of feeding 
cubs. Hoping to capture some, we had taken 
a large supply of Indian meal for their food. 
To tempt their palate and make their meal 
especially attractive, we usually boiled a 
small piece of rabbit or the bones of a deer 
to give flavor to their dish, and then twice 
each day we gave them a hearty meal. 

This feeding hour was always an exciting 
time. As soon as the cubs saw the food 
[ 212 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


coming toward their cage, they would begin 
to fight with each other in the most vigorous 
fashion, as though each thought the other 
responsible for the food not arriving quicker. 
They would bite and scratch, tumble over 
each other, and howl and snap and snarl. 

The second the door of the cage was opened, 
they would leap out, still fighting, and both 
would lunge for the same dish, usually knock- 
ing it out of our hands, and spilling the gruel 
over the floor. Then they would quarrel 
over the spilt meal, often tramping half of it 
under their feet and destroying it before they 
had eaten any. 

Their usual attitude, however, was that of 
the greatest friendliness. It was only the 
sight of food that disturbed their devotion 
to each other. Each night they would nestle 
down in one corner of the cage, snuggle very 
close, and often go to sleep in each other’s 
arms. Many mornings I have slipped noise- 
lessly to their cage and found them tucked 
down in some straw in one corner as lovingly 
as two babies in a crib. 

From morning till night they would play, 
never seeming to tire or grow weary of their 
games. Their favorite pastime was boxing. 
[ 213 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


They would stand on their hind legs, advance 
toward one another till they were within 
striking distance, and then begin to spar like 
two young pugilists. Their blows were not 
easy, and could be heard several feet away as 
they came down upon their heads. Some- 
times the blows were warded off by hfting 
an arm, but more often the cub dodged his 
head to escape a well-directed slap. Then 
again both Donner and Blitzen would stand 
without a motion before the heavy swings, 
just to see how much punishment they could 
endure before turning and running or lunging 
for a clinch and a rough-and-tumble fight. 

Donner was really a fine acrobat. We 
put some poles across the cage, and he would 
swing and tumble on them by the hour. His 
chief stunt was to hang downward on a bar 
by his four feet and then swing back and 
forth. Blitzen seemed to think this a very 
unusual performance, and she would stand on 
her hind feet in one corner of the cage, watch- 
ing with the greatest curiosity her young 
brother going through these strange antics. 
She never ventured upon anything of the kind 
herself, however, usually confining all her play 
to the floor. 


[ 214 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


When one cub was taken out of sight of 
the other, the one left behind was frantic. 
Donner was especially devoted to Blitzen, 
and he would always rush from one side of 
the cage to the other, crying and moaning, 
when she was taken from him, and nothing 
could calm him until she was again in his 
presence. 

One day the door of the cage was acciden- 
tally left open. Our attention was first called 
to the fact when we discovered both cubs 
feeding about the cabins. They were digging 
in an old pile of chips, unearthing bones and 
other kinds of refuse which had been thrown 
away by the cook when the cabins were 
used by the lumber crew. 

We thought surely we had lost them, and 
we waited anxiously to see what would 
happen. We knew if we ran toward them, 
they might become frightened and scamper 
away into the woods. Hence it was decided 
that the best policy was to let them alone 
and see if they would not return to the cage 
without any interference. 

To our surprise and relief, after feeding 
nearly the entire afternoon, they played 
vigorously, chased one another up trees and 
[ 215 ] 


NED B REI^VS TER^ S 


over the cabins, and then ran back into their 
pen, climbed quickly up and down the wire 
netting a few times, and lay down in the 
straw for a rest. 

This convinced us that it was not necessary 
to make prisoners of the little fellows in 
order to keep them, but that they might 
have the freedom of the camp, both for their 
comfort and for our pleasure. Each morning 
the door of the cage was left open, and they 
would wander about the cabins all day without 
a single attempt to run away. 

It was plain, however, that this freedom had 
decided disadvantages. Whenever the cubs 
met one of our party, they immediately 
stopped him and begged for something to eat, 
evidently thinking our only business in this 
world was to carry about pieces of cheese and 
bread and molasses. Whenever we appeared, 
they would run to us, rear upon their hind 
legs, seize us firmly by sticking their sharp 
claws into our clothing, and start to climb 
upon us. 

At first we thought this was great fun, and 
we would go out with all the varieties of 
dainties we had in camp to tempt the cubs to 
dance about us and ask for sweets. 

[ 216 ] 



George training the Bear to go to the Stump 

FOR Food. Paye 217 . 







BEAR HUNT 


But they soon became a great nuisance. 
There was scarcely a pair of trousers left in 
camp which did not have a long rip made by 
the claws of the cubs as they tried to climb 
upon us for food. Sometimes they would 
even grow angry when they did not find 
what they wanted. Then they would snap 
and growl and even strike us with their 
paws. 

George conceived the idea of training them 
to go to one spot for their feeding. There 
was an old stump, three or four feet high and 
flat on top, standing in front of our cabin, 
the last of some great tree that had been 
sawed down by the lumbermen. George 
took a long stick, put some tempting food 
on the end of it, and held it over the stump. 
The cubs would climb upon it, stand on their 
hind legs, and take the food with their hands. 
Each time they came near us, begging for 
something to eat, a small but tough twig was 
vigorously applied to the ends of their noses, 
making them smart until they would run 
away, shaking their heads and looking ven- 
geance out of their eyes. But whenever the 
switch was applied, some one was ready 
to tempt them to the stump, and give them a 
[ 217 ] 


NED BREIVS TER^ S 


taste of a dainty of which they were especially 
fond. 

As a result of this training, it was only a 
little while before they ceased to beg for food, 
and each time they saw us coming they 
would climb upon the stump and wait 
patiently for some one to come and feed them. 

The first thing Blitzen did each morning, 
as she was released from the cage, was to 
run playfully to her feeding place and wait 
for me to come with some nuts or molasses. 

Mose was the only one to break the rule 
that the cubs were to be given dainties only 
on the stump, and by so doing he plunged us 
into very serious trouble. He permitted the 
cubs to enter the kitchen, where they dis- 
covered the source of all the sweets. They 
immediately became like two children in a 
toy shop, running about, upsetting pans and 
kettles, and keeping four of us busy rescuing 
our provisions. The little fellows were frantic, 
and only when we succeeded in seizing their 
chains and pulling them out of the kitchen by 
main force were we able to save our cook 
room from choas. 

Mose did not care to repeat the experience, 
but he insisted on the right of taking one by 
[ 218 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


the chain and leading him into the kitchen 
to teach him tricks and deepen friendship. 

Blitzen was especially companionable, and 
Mose kept her with him most of the time. He 
was certain to have her in the kitchen after 
each meal and feed her scraps from the table. 
Among other things he taught her to stand 
on her hind feet, take a cup in her hand, and 
drink molasses. Mose thought this was great 
sport, but it resulted in a tragedy for our 
camp. 

We were to make a journey which would 
take us away from the cabins for two nights. 
Before going, we gave the cubs a large supply 
of food and plenty of water and locked them, as 
we supposed, securely in the cage. 

When we returned after three days’ absence 
and opened the cabin door, the sight was 
enough to make the heart of the strongest 
man sink within him. 

“A big bear has been here,” were the first 
words uttered by Mose as he opened the 
door. 

Such a sight as lay before us ! Molasses 
was tracked all over the fioor. The flour 
barrel had been tipped over and rolled about 
until nearly emptied of its contents. Bags 
[ 219 ] 


NED B REIVS T E S 


and boxes of evaporated fruits had been ripped 
open, hams had been gnawed and scattered 
about, tea and coffee were spilled, and every 
dish and pot had been knocked on the floor. 

“There is a track,” said George. “He 
has stepped in the molasses and then on the 
table. His track is perfectly clear.” 

“But where did he come in .^” asked Mose. 
“The door was locked, and no window is open.” 

“Here is where he entered,” said dad. 
“See the hair of the critter on the edge of 
the glass.” 

There was one pane of glass in the window 
which slid back to let the fresh air into the 
cabin. I had pushed it back one warm even- 
ing, and we had failed to close it before going 
away. It was not more than seven inches 
wide and a foot high. On each side of the 
hole were black hairs, held in place by the 
sticky molasses, scraped off as a small bear had 
pushed out of the narrow opening. 

“The cubs have gotten out,” declared 
Mose, as he made a more careful examination 
of the tracks. 

“That is just it!” exclaimed George. 
“You have given them a good training for 
such a mess.” 


[ 220 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


We rushed through the dingle into the cabin, 
in the corner of which was the cage of the 
cubs. It did not present a much better ap- 
pearance than did the kitchen. Donner, who 
had scratched his way out, had not been able to 
return by the same hole. Blitzen’s chain 
had caught on a nail, which held her securely. 
Donner was contented so long as he was 
stuflSng his stomach with good things, but 
when he attempted to return to his sister and 
found it impossible, he was beside himself. 

Finally, in desperation, he had climbed 
the side of the cabin, knocked every glass 
out of the window with such a blow that he 
had sent shattered pieces all over the cabin. 

Then he had entered and made a careful ex- 
amination of everything we had stored on the 
old bunks, tearing bags, ripping open boxes, and 
scattering things about generally. The only 
things he had left untouched were my photo- 
graphic supplies. Everything else had been 
rolled about or tumbled off the bunks on the 
floor. Even our trunks had been rolled over 
and over, as he had smelled the nuts locked 
in them and had tried to gain an entrance. 

‘‘There he is, the guilty looking rascal,” 
said dad. 


[ 221 ] 


NED B REIVS T ER^ S 


Sure enough, he sat way back under the 
bunks in a dark corner of the cabin, looking 
guilty indeed. He was sitting on his haunches, 
his dark eyes sparkling as though he knew 
what he had done and was waiting for his 
punishment. He was as round as a ball, 
his sides fairly bulging out, so full that he 
seemed to have no inclination to move, but 
take whatever came to him. 

When we let the cubs run freely about the 
cabins, we always kept the doors securely 
locked so they could not enter, when we were 
not watching them, and destroy our duffle. 
Many times they would come to a door and 
claw, their way of asking to be admitted. 
Sometimes they would climb to the window, 
look in to see if we were there, and then if 
there was no opportunity to commit theft, 
they would run away again and dig about the 
yard for insects. 

One day we were all taking an after-dinner 
sleep on the bunks, when we were suddenly 
awakened by gravel and dirt pouring down 
upon our faces. The roofs of these cabins 
are made by two layers of shingles, between 
which is a thick coating of coarse sand. 
Donner had evidently tried to gain entrance 


BEAR HUNT 


into the cabin while we were resting and, 
being unable to do so, had looked in the 
window; as we were far back in the bunks, 
his keen eye had not discovered us. Thinking 
we were away, he resolved to gain an entrance 
into the cabin and steal a supply of sweets. 
He climbed on the roof, tore away the outer 
layer of shingles, dug through the sand, and 
ripped the inner shingles away, which let 
all the dirt down into our faces. 

The greater part of it fell upon George, 
who evidently thought the whole cabin was 
falling. I opened my eyes just in time to 
have them filled with sand, and was so blinded 
that I could not tell what had happened. 
Mose was in one corner of the cabin, away 
from the falling debris. He had heard the 
cub sneak on the roof and knew what it was 
doing. Thinking the thing a good joke, he 
sat leaning against the wall, laughing as 
though his sides would split. When we 
looked up to find the cause of the disturbance, 
there sat Donner peeping down through the 
hole he had made, as much surprised as we 
were at the discovery that we were in the cabin. 
George was so enraged that he seized a club, 
ran out of the cabin, waved it wildly, and made 
[ 223 ] 


NED BREiVS TER’ S 


all sorts of threats of what he would do if 
the cub would only come within reach. But 
Donner saw the point and decided he was 
better off on top of the ridgepole. It was 
nearly dark before we could entice him down 
and put him into his cage. 

Our cameras were always a great source of 
curiosity to the cubs, especially my large one, 
when it was placed on the tripod. They 
seemed to feel that it was some sort of an in- 
fernal machine, and for a long time after 
we had the cubs, they would run when they 
saw me coming with this particular camera. 
Possibly they associated it with the day we 
captured them, and I used it so freely in 
taking their pictures. 

But gradually their fears were overcome, 
and they seemed to enter into the spirit of 
our expedition. One day I placed a small 
camera on a tripod in the yard, attached a 
long string to it, and took the other end of 
the cord into the cabin to secure a picture of a 
family of birch partridges, which often came 
to feed on seeds we had thrown out for them. 
Only a short time after Mose ran into the 
cabin, greatly excited, saying that Blitzen was 
taking Donner’s picture. I looked from the 
[ 224 ] 



Blitzen was taking Donner’s Picture. Page 224 





BEAR HUNT 


window, and, sure enough, there was Blitzen 
looking into the finder of the camera as 
though trying to get her companion in good 
focus, while Donner was standing on his hind 
legs posing for his photograph. Blitzen was 
not quite tall enough to stand on the ground 
and look into the camera, so she had one foot 
upon the tripod, eagerly studying the picture 
she saw on the ground glass, while Donner 
posed with great dignity, as though proud of 
the fact that he was having his picture taken. 
After the discovery that there was really 
nothing in the camera to do them any harm, 
they took much interest in our photography. 

One day I sat upon a log feeding the cubs 
nuts, when dad walked out of the cabin with 
my long focus reflex in his hand. Blitzen 
immediately became interested, stood on her 
hind legs, making a beautiful pose, and 
looked as though she was trying to say : 
“Please snap my picture, sir ! I like to have 
it taken.” 

We soon discovered that bears are the most 
timid and cowardly animals in the woods. 
A calf moose which we had tamed was as 
trustful as the calves about our barnyards. 
It never thought of running when we unex- 
[ 225 ] 


BREM/S TER^ S 


pectedly approached, and the sound of a man 
walking in the brush would cause it only to 
turn its head and look. Wherever we went, 
it would follow us, and it never seemed to re- 
gard us as other than friends. 

But the cubs were always looking for danger. 
From the time we captured them until the 
time they went from our home, they never 
showed one sign of trustfulness, but always 
looked upon us with suspicion. If we sud- 
denly opened the door of the cabin without 
first speaking, they would become frightened, 
rush wildly from one side of the cage to the 
other, throw themselves violently against 
the wire netting, and make every possible 
effort to escape, as though they fully expected 
to be devoured by some ugly beast. If we 
stepped quickly behind them, they would 
turn in a second or look questioningly out of 
the corners of their eyes, showing their red 
eyeballs, which always reminded us that 
caution was the best policy. 

Not once during their entire captivity did 
they show any affection, the thing which 
makes our dogs and cats delightful pets. 
They had this element in their natures, as I 
often observed when I saw them alone. At 

[m] 


BEAR HUNT 


times they would sleep in one another’s arms 
and again they would play most lovingly. 
This, however, never occurred when they 
knew they were being watched. It was only 
when they had no idea that we were near 
that this side of their natures could be 
seen. With us they were always bears, quick 
to run when frightened, suspicious of us at all 
times, and never giving any warning when they 
were about to deliver an angry blow with 
their heavy paws. 

The nearest they ever came to making real 
good friends was when they discovered that I 
possessed a large supply of nuts. One day 
Donner became very angry when we tried to 
put him in his cage. He was digging about 
the camp, unearthing old bones and having a 
jolly good time. When Mose caught his 
chain and tried to lead him to his cage, he 
rebelled most stubbornly. Without any warn- 
ing, he gave a sudden lunge, jerked the chain 
from the hand of Mose, and ran into the brush. 
When we tried to catch him, he stood at bay, 
with his back to a tree, champed his teeth 
savagely and defied us to approach. 

“He means fight,” said dad, as three of us 
tried to surround and capture him. 

[ 227 ] 


NED B REIVS T ER^ S 


“If we are not careful,” added Mose, “he 
will make a dash for the woods, and it will be 
the last of him.” 

Then I happened to think of the nuts in our 
trunk, and, securing a handful of large Brazilian 
nuts, I threw one to the little rebel. He paid 
no attention to them, but continued to hold us 
away. 

I threw several at his feet. Then the temp- 
tation was too great, and still looking at us 
with an angry eye, the hair on his back still 
bristling, he reached down with his front paws, 
seized one nut, and proceeded to crack it. 

The taste of the sweet meat was too much 
for him. He immediately forgot the battle 
and proceeded to devour one after another 
until they were all gone. 

Then he proceeded to look for more, but 
instead of throwing another to him, I held 
it temptingly before his eyes. It was trying 
him above what he was able to bear, and in the 
mood of a boy who first says “No” to his 
parents and then surrenders and obeys, the 
little fellow came over to take the dainty from 
my hand. While he was eating this, I walked 
back toward the cabin and sat down upon a 
log, holding several nuts in plain sight. 

[ 228 ] 



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vu:-. 



BEAR HUNT 


Donner’s eyes soon discovered them, and, 
running to me, he climbed into my lap. The 
little rebel was conquered. He sat down on 
my knees, placed one hand upon my shoulder, 
taking a firm hold of my arm, so I could not get 
it away without tearing my shirt, while he 
helped himself until every nut was gone. 

This was the beginning of a delightful 
friendship. Each day I would fill my pockets 
with nuts, sit upon some stump about the 
cabin, and both Donner and Blitzen would 
climb into my lap, and eat from my fingers. 
The only unpleasantness arose over the ques- 
tion of which cub would sit in my lap and 
which one would sit by my side. This 
sometimes gave rise to a savage little battle, 
of which I often found myself the center, and 
more than once I had to take a stick, be the 
referee, and decide the question myself to 
save my trousers from being torn to shreds. 

Blitzen once discovered that the nuts came 
from my pockets. Seeing my hand go into a 
hole in my clothes and bring forth a nut each 
time, she decided that place must be the source 
of supply. 

Her sensitive nose soon began to make in- 
vestigations. She sniffed and ran the sharp 
[ 229 ] 


ED B REIVS TER^ S 


point of her muzzle about until she caught the 
nut scent, then she became frantic. First, 
she tried to thrust her paw into my pocket, 
but I could not quite submit to the thought 
of those sharp claws going so near my flesh. 
Then, seeing that method was forbidden, 
she ran her long nose into my trousers’ pocket 
and helped herself. Soon both cubs were 
fighting over the pocket and, to bring peace, 
I had to make two feeding places, so that a 
cub could be on each side of me. 

After a little training, they never showed 
any signs of roughness. They would sit on 
their haunches, take one nut after another 
from my pockets, sometimes holding them in 
both hands as they took the meat from the 
shells and sometimes throwing them on the 
ground. They were perfectly satisfied to 
munch away and would gladly have made it 
an all-day feast if I had submitted to their 
desires. 


[ 230 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


CHAPTER SIXTEEN 

A IVILD NIGHT 

‘‘ M F you would only go to Canada Lake, 
I you would see caribou in droves,” 
M Mose was accustomed to say every 
few days. 

He evidently had a special liking for this 
particular sheet of water. He had never 
been there, according to his own confession, 
but he had heard wonderful tales of caribou 
to be found in that region, and for years 
these stories had been growing in his imagi- 
nation until he truly believed that Canada 
Lake was the Paradise of the caribou hunter. 

We had no idea that a single caribou was to 
be found about that lake during the summer 
months. They were all farther north and 
would not migrate back to our region until the 
snow came in the late fall. 

But as a diversion, and also to satisfy the 
curiosity of Mose, we arranged to spend a few 
days about his favorite lake with the special 
object of flashlighting at night. 

[ 231 ] 


NED B REPVS TER^S 


We found it to be one of the few truly 
beautiful sheets of water about the entire 
region. Most of the lakes and ponds were 
simply dead waters of large streams, or muddy, 
boggy places with marshy shores, wallowing 
places for the moose. But Canada Lake 
was an exception to everything we had seen. 
The mountains came down to the very edge 
of the water, making high, rocky shores. 
Great boulders, some of them as large as a 
house, rested along the banks, while others 
lifted themselves out of the water for many 
feet. The forests were almost unbroken to 
the water line ; while wooded, rocky islands 
dotted the lake. 

“The greatest spot I ever saw for beautiful 
flashlight pictures ! ’’ I exclaimed, when my eye 
first rested on the sheet of blue water, rimmed 
by the great rocks and trees. 

There was a small bay not more than a 
quarter of a mile wide, which led into the 
main lake by a narrow, rocky channel. We 
decided to pitch our camp on the shore of this 
lake, as fire wood was plentiful, and a spring of 
delicious water bubbled out of a cliff of rocks. 

“We’ll not disturb any animals about the 
lake if we camp here,” said Mose. 

[ 232 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


“The only drawback to this place,” added 
George, “is the difficulty of finding our 
way through that narrow, rocky channel at 
night.” 

But Mose assured us that was no difficulty 
worth considering, and we all set to the task 
of building a lean-to of birch bark and making 
preparations for the night. 

By sundown we had paddled out through 
the narrows to make some observations along 
the shore of the lake to decide which way 
we should go for the pictures. 

We had just seated ourselves on logs and 
rocks to take our observations, when we all 
rose and rushed to the canoe, where we had 
left our bottles of fly dope. 

“I’ve seen ’em bad,” said Mose, “but never 
anything like this.” 

“They must have been heating their feet 
on hot rocks,” exclaimed dad. 

“Seems to me they have been building a 
fire and sitting on the coals,” replied Mose. 

The midges were about us in millions ; 
the air was thick with them. Each step we 
took, fresh swarms would rise out of the sandy 
soil and cover every exposed part of our bodies. 
Wherever they rested, they were like bits 
[ 233 ] 


NED B REIVS T E S 


of red-liot iron touching the flesh. If we had 
been covered with some burning acid, we could 
not have suffered more than we did, until we 
smeared our hands, faces, necks, and ears with 
a heavy coating of oil and citronella. Even 
then they crawled under our hats, dug their 
way through our hair, flew up our sleeves 
and under our trousers, and afflicted us until we 
were in despair and agony. 

As the shadows of the evening deepened, 
two great gnat hawks sailed about our heads 
and lighted at our feet. 

“Did you ever see anything like this !” 
exclaimed dad, as he saw the beautiful birds 
sitting so near us. 

“I’ve had them light on my shoulder,” said 
Mose. “They take no notice of man when 
there are so many flies in the air.” 

The sight was as interesting as anything 
I had seen in the woods, and almost made me 
forget the torture of the insects. We had 
seen many of these birds farther south in 
Massachusetts and New York, but there 
they were wild, flying high and suddenly 
dropping a hundred feet or more through the 
air with the sound of ripping cloth. Here they 
flew about our heads or sat near us on rocks 
[ 234 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


or logs and seemed to enjoy rather than 
shun our company. 

Up to the time darkness had gathered 
over the lake and forest we had not been 
able, even with the aid of our strong glasses, 
to discover a single animal about the shores. 

“Wait until it grows dark,” said Mose, 
eagerly; “then the caribou will come out of 
the woods and steal down to the water to 
drink. This hot day will bring them out. 
You will find most of them at the head of the 
lake. You cannot see it from here. The 
inlet lies directly behind that big island.” 

Dad and I had often heard of the great 
hunting grounds which lay just beyond and 
which we would soon reach, but we usually 
found when we came to the place that they 
were still farther away. Neither of us had 
much expectation of seeing a caribou. We 
had not even seen a footprint left by one, and 
we did not believe there were any in the entire 
region. 

However, we did not care to dash too 
quickly the fair dreams of the vast caribou 
herds which Mose had been enjoying for 
months, and when darkness settled, which 
was not until nearly eleven o’clock in that 
[ 235 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


northern world, we adjusted our light, put 
everything in readiness, and started down 
the shore. 

“Dreadfully still !’^ whispered dad, as we 
pushed off. 

I am certain we had never seen such a quiet 
night in the woods. There was not a ripple or 
a breath of wind on the lake. The upper air 
was still. Not a current even bent the tops 
of the highest trees. The only sound was 
from the low, faint murmur of a myriad of 
insects. 

Mose, who was skilled with the paddle, 
did not lift it from the water. The frail 
birch canoe glided along without a sound. 
The bow swung slowly from side to side, 
playing the light along the shore, but there 
was not the least sign of life. 

More than an hour passed, and the stillness 
seemed to grow deeper. Even the hum of 
the flies died away, as a chill came into the air. 

Then out of the heavy stillness a sound 
rent the night which made us jump till the 
canoe trembled. 

“A bear!” said Mose. 

“Sounds more like a woman being strangled 
to death !” exclaimed dad. 

[236] 


BEAR HUNT 


It was the most weird, horrifying sound I 
had ever heard in the wood;^, enough to strike 
terror to the heart of the bravest. We 
were glad when the brute traveled over the 
ridge and the cry died away. 

A breeze began to stir the surface of the lake, 
and far away on the horizon dark clouds 
appeared. 

‘‘There will soon be excitement enough,’’ 
said Mose, still believing that we would find 
the caribou. “It has been so still they have 
not been moving about.” 

“I quite agree, Mose,” replied dad, “that 
there will be plenty of excitement, but accord- 
ing to my way of thinking it will come from 
the sky rather than the lake.” 

“Nothing in those clouds,” declared Mose. 
“The weather will be fine until after day- 
break.” 

By the time we had reached the inlet, 
the whole southern sky was full of black clouds, 
and thunder was rumbling in the distance. 
The breeze had stiffened and was blowing 
directly up the lake. 

“We are in for it, Mose,” said dad, “and 
the best thing we can do is to put back to 
camp before the storm breaks in its fury.” 
[ 237 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


Mose was beginning to be disappointed at 
not finding the caribou and, seeing flashes of 
lightning on the horizon, agreed with dad 
that it would be the part of wisdom to make 
for the narrows. Camp was over two miles 
away and the wind was dead ahead. We 
had not gone more than a quarter of a mile 
when the wind blew stiffer and began to kick 
up the lake. 

“She’s getting her whitecaps on,” shouted 
Mose, as he bent to the paddle. 

I was at the bow paddle, while dad sat in the 
center of the canoe. 

“Better let me take that paddle, lad,” 
said dad. “We’ll need all the strength we 
have to put her into the teeth of this wind.” 

“Can’t change here,” shouted Mose. 
“You’d put us over, sure.” 

“I’ll take her all right, dad,” I answered. 
“I’m good anyway for half down the lake, 
and possibly then the hills will protect us 
from the gale.” 

The bow of the little birch canoe was cutting 
the waves beautifully, but with three of us in 
her she was well loaded down, and the best we 
could do, some of the water splashed over the 
gunnels. 


[ 238 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


“Help her all you can!” shouted Mose. 
“Lift her up over the waves 1 Be careful 
not to snub her down, or we will fill her up I” 

The clouds grew thicker, and the night be- 
came dark as ink. 

“Keep a sharp eye, Ned !” shouted Mose, 
again. “Remember the lake is full of rocks.” 

“Sure you are in the right direction V asked 
dad. 

“Not sure of anything in this pitch dark- 
ness,” replied Mose. “All we can do is keep 
her dead ahead in the wind.” 

“It’s not much ahead you will put her,” 
declared dad. “If you keep her from swamp- 
ing, you’ll do well in this gale.” 

“If we are on our course,” I said, “a 
large island is straight ahead of us. We 
may be able to put up there for the night.” 

That seemed to be a happy thought, and we 
redoubled our energy in the hope that we 
might bring up behind the island and stop 
there until the wind fell or the daylight came. 
It was a terrifying feeling to be tossed about 
on the great waves and not be able to see a 
thing. 

“If a fellow could only tell whether this 
canoe was going to land right or bottom side 
[ 239 ] 


NED BREWS TER^S 


up,” said dad, as he held to the gunnels, 
“ there would be some comfort in that. When 
you cannot even see the man in the bow, and 
cannot see where you are going to light, I 
don’t call it much fun.” 

“Hold your nerve, now,” cried Mose. 
“We cannot be far from land, and the only 
hope is to keep her steady.” 

We could not tell whether we were making 
a single inch of progress. Indeed, we could 
scarcely see the canoe beneath us. We only 
knew that we were fighting the waves, and that 
the wind and the water were beating us back 
with terrific power. 

“We certainly have missed the island, or 
else we are making no headway,” I shouted, 
as a big wave slapped me in the face, and the 
spray went over both dad and Mose. 

Already we had been fighting the wind for 
an hour, and all hands knew that if we were 
making any headway, we must have passed 
this place on which our hopes had been set. 

“Hold her fast, Mose ! A rock dead 
ahead !” I commanded. “Can’t see it, but 
hear the waves beating over it.” 

“We may be near the shore,” answered dad. 
“Listen for the water beating on the land.” 

[ 240 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


“It’s one of those boulders,” replied Mose. 
“They are all over the lake. Lucky if we 
don’t run on the point of one about an inch 
under water.” 

“Hold her steady, now,” I commanded 
again, “until we can find where we are. We 
may be in a field of these rocks.” 

Just then a flash of lightning shot across the 
sky. By its light I saw a huge rock in front 
of us, lifting its sides perpendicularly into 
the air twenty feet or more. There was no 
possibility of fastening to it or climbing upon 
it for safety. 

“I know where we are now,” cried dad, who 
had also caught sight of the rock. “I saw 
this very boulder before we started. It is 
not more than two hundred yards from shore. 
Bear off to the left as much as possible without 
swamping the canoe, and you will soon catch 
the swish of the waves on the land.” 

Sure enough, in less than ten minutes we 
heard the water beating the rocks and wash- 
ing the gravel back and forth on the beach. 

“I can touch bottom with my paddle !” 
I shouted. “Easy now or we will strike a rock 
and go to pieces before we reach the shore.” 

Another flash of lightning revealed a ledge 
[ 241 ] 


NED BREIVST ER^ S 


of rock projecting out into the water, behind 
which was a little, quiet pool. 

“Put her in here, Mose,” I commanded, 
“and we will be safe.’’ 

A few vigorous strokes of our paddles 
brought us behind the natural breakwater, 
and with grateful hearts we climbed ashore. 

It was a desolate spot on which to spend a 
night, especially in view of the fact that we 
had no blankets, tent, or any other means of 
protection. The thunder was rumbling all 
about us; the lightning was flashing across 
the southern and western sky. We ex- 
pected any minute the storm would break 
and we would be soaked. 

Scrambling over the rocks as well as we could 
in the darkness, we made our way a few feet 
back from the shore, collected enough brush 
to start a blaze, and then proceeded to gather 
sticks and logs to make a roaring fire, around 
which we could comfortably snuggle until 
the storm came and drenched us. 

“That fire will burn until morning, if the 
rain will only keep away,” said Mose. “We 
can lie here as comfortably as in a cabin until 
daybreak, when we can find our way back to 
camp.” 


[ 242 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


Each selected the easiest spot that could be 
found on the hard rocks, using a log or a stone 
for a pillow, to secure, if possible, a little rest 
and sleep. Mose was accustomed to these 
hardships, and his loud snores soon mingled 
with the washing of the waves and the roaring 
of the wind. 

I slept a few minutes, but was soon awakened 
by the cold air, which had penetrated my 
clothing and had sent a chill over my entire 
body. The fire had died down, and what 
little heat it gave was carried away by the 
strong wind. 

Dad was also chilled, and I saw him creep 
away to gather fresh wood by what little light 
remained from the blaze. In a minute he 
came back, dragging some brush, which he had 
collected from a fallen birch. 

“Hough ! Bear ! Hough ! Hough ! Get 
out !” 

These piercing yells came from the stillness 
of the night and brought me with a bound 
to my feet. Mose was in a nightmare, yelling 
like a maniac. He had heard the noise of 
the brush dad was dragging over the rocks and 
had thought it was a bear coming to attack us. 
Seizing a club, he made a rush for the sound. 

[ 243 ] 


NED BREIVS TER^S 


“Drive him off or he will tear us to pieces,” 
he kept shouting, as he sprang at dad. 

“Wake up, or I’ll beat you over the head,” 
dad shouted. 

But it was of no effect, and Mose continued 
to yell and swing his club wildly. Dad saw the 
situation was serious, and, taking a small switch, 
he slapped Mose a stinging blow over the cheek. 
It brought Mose to his senses. He opened his 
eyes, stared wildly at us, and then, realizing 
what had happened, he began to laugh. 

“It may be funny, Mose,” said dad, “but 
if you had come a foot nearer, acting like a 
maniac, I would have knocked you over 
with a club.” 

“I thought a bear was right on us,” laughed 
Mose. “I wanted to protect you fellows.” 

“Well, it is wild enough to-night,” said 
dad, slowly, “without introducing a crazy 
man into the situation.” 

The wind increased in its fury. The roar 
of the thunder came nearer; the lightning 
flashed all about us. 

“We are in for it,” said dad. “She is 
going to come in sheets in a minute.” 

“Let’s carry the canoe up, turn it over, and 
crawl under it,” I suggested. 

[ ^44 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


No one seemed to have thought of this 
before. Pulling a great lot of brush on the 
fire to make a big blaze to light us to the edge 
of the water, we lifted the canoe to our 
shoulders and carried it from the shore. 

“It will be a close squeeze, but we can all 
slip under it,’’ said Mose, who seemed to have 
some fear that he would be left out in the wet. 

We placed the canoe at right angles with the 
wind, leaned it on the side toward the storm, 
and then crawled under the little craft. 
Scarcely had we taken our places, stored our 
camera and flashlight material in the bow, 
when we heard the rain far out on the lake. 
It came with a low rumble, coming nearer 
and nearer, until it broke over us. It seemed 
as though the lake had been lifted above us 
and was being suddenly emptied; the rain 
fell in sheets, while the thunder was deafening. 

Yet not a drop of the water reached us. 
We snuggled about one another, listening 
to the beating of the water on the birch bark 
above our heads and thankful that we had at 
least a spot that was dry. 

As the darkness began to be penetrated 
by the first rays of day, we looked out to see 
where we were. To our great surprise we were 
[ 245 ] 


NED B REIVS T E S 


not more than a hundred yards from the 
inlet of the lake. In the gray light we could 
just discern the island we had hoped to reach, 
lying directly in front of us. The wind and 
waves had beaten us back and had driven us 
on the shore. We were more than two miles 
from camp, and the wind was still howling 
up the lake, though the rain had ceased. 

“We can never put this small craft down 
against the wind,” said Mose, as we looked 
out on the angry lake. 

“Nor will we try it,” added dad. “We have 
been through enough risk in the last eight 
hours. Now we will wait for the storm to 
cease or walk back to camp around the shore.” 

Just then I discovered something on the 
eastern bank which I thought was a deer. 
Then I saw it climb upon a rock and could 
easily determine that it was a man. 

George was out searching for us. He had 
climbed upon a high boulder and, by the aid 
of the field glasses, was looking over every 
foot of the shore to see if he could discover 
any sign of the- shipwrecked crew. 

“He has his knapsack on his back,” said 
Mose. “If he has only thought to bring 
some food, we are all right.” 

[ 246 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


Dad jumped on a rock, took off his coat, and 
waved it wildly in the wind. George caught 
it through the glasses and signaled that he 
would come to us. It took him more than an 
hour to make his way through the brush and 
swamps. 

‘‘Never expected to see you alive again,” 
were the first words with which he greeted 
us. 

“Must think we are poor canoemen,” re- 
plied dad, with a smile on his face. 

“I figured out that you tried to cross the 
lake after the wind arose, hit a rock, and went 
down,” explained George. 

“Well, don’t mind rocks,” said Mose. 
“Have you anything to eat.^” 

“I put in the coffeepot and some coffee 
and bread,” replied George. “Thought I 
might find you some place in the lake clinging 
to a rock, wet and half frozen, and a little 
coffee would help to revive you.” 

We made light of George’s fears, but we 
knew well enough what we had escaped. 
As we looked out on the lake, we discovered 
that it was full of rocks, small islands, and 
floating logs. We would certainly have been 
swamped, had not the wind driven us back to 
[£ 47 ] 


NED BREIVS TER^ S 


a place of safety. We were glad enough to sit 
down around a little fire, make a pot of coffee, 
and cheer up our spirits on dry bread. 

It was nearly noon before we felt that it 
was safe to venture on the lake and start for 
home. Then dad and Mose stepped into 
the canoe to take her across, while George 
and I walked around the shore. 


[ 248 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 

LEVESQUE^S RETURN 

O UR retreat from Canada Lake was 
more like a funeral procession than 
a triumphal march. A dirge would 
have fitted our spirits better than the lively 
strains from Sousa’s Band. We had lost a 
night’s sleep, our muscles were stiff from the 
hard work and severe exposure, and above all 
else was the disappointment at not finding 
the caribou. Mose was so frustrated over 
this failure that he was sullen as we paddled 
back toward camp through the small lakes 
and streams. George was the only merry 
spirit in the company. He had slept the first 
part of the night and, always delighted to 
find some joke on Mose, he lost no oppor- 
tunity, especially in view of the depressed 
spirits of Mose, to tantalize him about the 
great droves of caribou. 

The sun was burning hot, and the day was 
sultry; not a breath of air stirred over the 
lakes. The very refiection from the water 
[ 249 ] 


NED B REIVS T E S 


burned our faces. There was scarcely a sign 
of life about the ponds. We passed only one 
old cow moose and saw a lonely deer wading 
along the shore in the distance. Even the 
water birds seemed to have hidden them- 
selves in the tall grasses to escape the hot 
sun. 

As our canoe reached the dam at the foot 
of Fowler’s Lake we packed our duffle and 
started for the last tramp of two miles through 
the woods to camp. In the close, sultry day 
the mosquitoes were unusually active and 
tortured us. 

Mose, who was leading, suddenly stopped. 

“Some one has been over the trail since we 
were here,” he said, pointing to a moccasin 
track in the soft earth. 

“Probably a game warden prowling about 
to see what we are doing,” George replied. 

“Looks to me more like the footprint of 
Levesque,” suggested dad. “It is certainly 
the track we followed the night we chased 
Levesque down the road.” 

“If it is, we may look for trouble,” was the 
comment Mose had to offer. “If he is in 
this country, it is for no good purpose.” 

A little farther along the trail we came 
[ 250 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


upon his track again. It was evidently lead- 
ing toward the cabins. 

“He’s prowling around to see if we are 
doing any illegal shooting,” said George. 
“He’d like to get something against you 
fellows.” 

We all had an uneasy feeling and hurried 
toward camp. 

“The crazy fellow would pick one of us off 
in a minute, if he could get a clear shot from 
some brush heap,” added Mose. 

The suggestion made none of us feel any 
more comfortable, and instinctively we kept 
looking from one side of the trail to the other, 
carefully scanning every nook and turn in the 
forest, thinking we might discover him be- 
hind some tree or rock. 

“I smell smoke,” said dad, as we hastened 
along. 

Then all began to sniff the air, and we soon 
discovered dad was right. 

“There’s been a fire some place, without a 
doubt,” responded George. 

We became so nervous that we broke into a 
trot to reach the cabins. As we passed the 
last turn in the trail where the camp came into 
view, we saw smoke rising from the clearing. 

[ 251 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


“The brute has burned us out/’ said Mose, 
as he saw the smoke. 

“Nice fix we are in if he has !” exclaimed 
George. 

Sure enough, the last log was burned to 
the ground. Our provisions were gone ; every 
blanket was destroyed; not the sign of any 
camp supply remained. 

“Here is Blitzen,” said dad, as he discov- 
ered something moving through the brush 
and saw the cub walking toward us. 

“The villain did have enough sense to let 
the bears out before he touched the match,” 
added George. 

“There is Donner, up a tree,” said Mose. 
“Poor thing looks as though he was frightened 
to death.” 

What we were to do was a problem. We 
were fifty miles from provisions. I had 
carefully hidden all my camera plates under 
an old log in one of the hovels before we 
started for Canada Lake, as a precaution 
against any possible accident. These were safe, 
but everything else we had in the cabin was 
gone. We had three biscuit remaining from 
our trip and one slice of bacon. That was 
a meager supply for four hungry mouths. 
[ 252 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


‘‘Well, Levesque has certainly got it on us 
after all,” said Mose. 

“It is all the result of Ned’s carelessness,” 
added dad, placing the blame for the whole 
thing on me. “We haven’t anything more 
than we deserve.” 

“I take the reproof,” I volunteered; “but 
what about the future.^” 

“Well, the trip is at an end,” replied dad. 
“The thing now is to get out of here without 
starving to death.” 

“We could walk out in twenty-four hours by 
hard tramping,” said Mose, “but we would 
have to leave the bears behind.” 

“That is impossible,” declared dad. “We 
must take those cubs out, if we have to live 
on berries.” 

After thinking the matter over carefully, 
we concluded that if we led the bears by their 
chains, we could not make more than twelve 
miles a day. At best it would take us four 
days to reach any source of food supplies. 
If we sent Mose out for food and the team, it 
would be three days before he could return. 
In the meantime, we would have nothing 
to eat. 

All things considered, we decided that the 
[ 253 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


best policy was to start for civilization, 
but it was a dreary outlook. Our guns and 
ammunition had been burned in the fire. Our 
fishing tackle was also destroyed. We did 
not have a single thing with which we could 
catch trout or kill birds or animals. There 
was the slight possibility that we might snare 
a few partridges, but it was late in August, 
and the young of these birds were nearly full- 
grown and the older birds were becoming 
shy and very difficult to approach. It would 
be only by sheer good luck if we should be 
able to approach near enough to knock one 
over with a stone or place a noose about 
his neck. In this desperate situation dad’s 
knowledge came to our relief. 

“I have an idea,” he said as we discussed 
the matter. “Mushrooms have the food 
value of meat. Unlike other vegetable 
growths, they take in the oxygen and give 
out carbonic acid, as do animals. Their 
power to sustain life is the same as flesh. I 
think I know nearly every species in these 
woods, both the poisonous and the edible ones.” 

“They would be poor eating without salt,” 
I added. 

“That may be overcome,” declared George, 
[ 254 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


who walked to one corner of the burnt cabin 
and began to dig in the ashes. ‘‘The sacks 
of salt were here, and we might be able to find 
enough to take us out.” 

Sure enough, after a little poking about 
in the ashes, he found two bunches of salt. 
He gathered plenty to serve us for several 
days, and we felt that we were safe. 

“But what about the bears V asked Mose. 
“We will have nothing for them to eat.” 

“That is the easiest part of the difliculty,” 
replied dad. “I saw at least ten pounds of 
elm mushrooms growing on an old tree, just 
a little way down the road. We can soon 
make up a mess that will give them the best 
meal they have ever had.” 

Dad started for the mushrooms, while 
Mose built a fire and George dug a large 
kettle out of the ruins. 

“Miserable brute!” George grumbled as 
he poked in the hot ashes. “He might, at 
least, have saved out a gun to give us a chance 
to shoot something to eat.” 

In a few minutes, Mose had a hot fire, and 
George placed the kettle over the flames. 
Dad returned with ten or fifteen pounds of 
fungus upon his back. 

[ 255 ] 


NED BREIVS TER^ S 


“ We’ll make a gruel out of this that will put 
Indian meal to shame,” he said as he broke 
the mushrooms into small pieces and dropped 
them in the boiling water. 

“You’ll probably have two dead bears, also, 
after they eat this mess,” replied Mose, as 
he looked suspiciously at the dish dad was 
preparing. 

“I’d hate to eat it,” said George. “They 
tell me that any mushroom growing on a tree 
is poisonous.” 

“You’ll find before you leave these woods 
that some of the best things you ever ate 
grow on trees,” replied dad. “It’s one of the 
old superstitions that whatever mushroom 
grows on wood or grows sidewise is poisonous.” 

“Maybe,” said Mose ; “but I’ll let you eat 
them first. If you don’t die, then I will try 
them.” 

Dad kept stirring the mess in the kettle 
until the water nearly all boiled away, and a 
thick, mealy substance was left ; then he 
poured it out in thin layers on some boards 
to cool. In half an hour he put it into pans 
and gave it to the bears. They smelled it 
carefully, then began to eat as though they 
could not swallow it fast enough. 

[ 256 ] 



Startin(j on the lono Journey with the Curs. Page 257 . 



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BEAR HUNT 


The sun was still two hours above the 
mountains, and the long twilight gave us at 
least four hours to travel before darkness 
would overtake us. With the two blankets 
we had taken to Canada Lake and the camera 
supplies on our backs, we started on our long 
tramp. Some old cabins, once used by a 
lumber crew, were not more than four miles 
away, and we hoped to reach them before 
it became too dark to travel, as they would 
give us more protection should a storm arise 
during the night. 

They were certainly four of the longest 
miles any man ever tried to travel in the 
woods. The cubs led without any resistance 
until we turned a bend in the tote road and 
the clearing was lost to their sight. Then they 
became frantic. They had never been away 
from the cabins and had never been led except 
about the camp. Now to start on a journey 
into the big woods, leave the familiar things 
behind, and become perfectly obedient to the 
constant lead of men seemed to stir all their 
powers of resistance. They pulled back, 
snorted, rushed at us, and struck with their 
paws, clung to logs and trees and became 
entangled in the brush. We were just three 
[ 257 ] 


NED B REPVS TER^ S 


hours making the first mile, and men and cubs 
were nearly exhausted. 

“We’ll be a month walking out at this rate,” 
said Mose, as we all sat down on a log to rest. 

“And a month living on mushrooms !” 
exclaimed George. “We’ll be thinner than a 
toadstool before we finish the job.” 

The cubs seemed to be more submissive to 
the chain during the next mile, but it was 
perfectly clear that we could not reach the 
cabins that night. It was already so dark 
that we could hardly keep the trail, and so we 
chained the bears to a tree, built a big fire, 
threw our blankets on the ground, and were 
soon asleep. 

The next morning, just as the first streaks 
of light came over the mountains, we were 
on the road again, and before the sun touched 
the tops of the highest peaks, we had reached 
the cabins, having traveled four miles out of 
the fifty. A column of smoke rose in front 
of the largest cabin, the last signs of a small, 
snpioldering fire. 

“Some one has cooked a breakfast here,” 
said Mose, as he kicked the embers and 
looked into the cabin to assure himself that 
no man was about the camp. 

[258] 


BEAR HUNT 


“He slept in the main cabin last night,” 
said George. “There is where he rolled a little 
straw in the corner.” 

But these were the only signs he had left 
behind, and, thinking it might have been 
some man prospecting through the country, 
we gave no more thought to the fire. 

About half a mile below the cabins was a 
large meadow, divided by a great dead water. 
It was an ideal feeding place for moose and, 
at the suggestion of Mose, George and I 
walked down to see if we could discover any 
bulls, while he and dad prepared a breakfast 
of the mushrooms we had gathered along the 
way. 

. As we looked out on the meadow, a sight 
met our eyes that comes to a woodsman not 
more than once in a lifetime. A cow moose 
and her calf w^alked from the forest. The 
calf was lame, hobbling on three legs, and the 
old cow kept looking back as though anxious 
for its condition. Then a monstrous bull 
came from the woods and followed closely 
behind them. A man might walk the woods 
for years and not see another specimen of a 
moose to compare with this one. His antlers 
had a spread of seventy inches. As he moved 
[ 259 ] 


NED BREIVS TER^S 


along, he looked as though he had a clump of 
brush upon his head. He lifted his nose to 
catch some scent. Then we could see his 
nostrils distend and his body grow tense as 
he sniffed the man-tainted air. 

His head flew high in the air. For a minute 
he stood rigid, then trotted a few steps toward 
the cow, and stopped. Again his head flew 
into the air. He stood, a veritable king, 
ready to fight any enemy that might attack 
the suffering calf. 

Just then the hills vibrated with the crack 
of a rifle. The great brute fell to his knees. 
The bullet had struck a mortal spot, but, as a 
true monarch, he climbed again to his feet 
and stood broadside with his head erect, 
never thinking of moving. Another shot 
rang from the brush, but it fell short and tore 
the earth beneath him. 

The old cow and calf trotted toward the 
woods, but, as though bewildered, they stopped 
for a second to look back. The bull stood 
between them and the enemy. Another ball 
struck a tree over his back. 

I was just ready to jump into the open, 
raise a shout of protest to the lawless hunter, 
and stop this murder of the wood’s king, when 
[ 260 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


Levesque jumped from the forest and sprang 
upon a rock to take one more shot before the 
bull reached the woods. 

‘‘He’d shoot you dead,” said George, seizing 
me by the shoulder and pulling me back. “A 
man who will burn you out, then not hesitate 
to shoot such a beast out of the hunting season, 
would not stop short of murder.” 

But I felt that I must do something to save 
the monarch. My brain grew dizzy at the 
sight of such savagery. The thought flashed 
over me that possibly the bull might not be 
mortally wounded and I could yet save him 
from Levesque. I rushed through the brush 
to the point where he had entered the woods 
from the marsh, reaching it just in time to see 
the wounded calf limping over a small ridge. 
The great bull stood a little way behind, 
facing the marsh, as though ready to charge 
the enemy as he approached, but his front legs 
were spread out and his head hung heavily 
toward the ground. I could hear his guttural 
breathing and knew that the ball had entered 
his lungs. The ground was red with blood, 
and it was clear that the minutes of his life 
were short. 

He was a hero, every ineh of him. He 

[261 ] 


NED BREIVS TER^S 


was only from a gnawing hunger that we could 
bring ourselves to eat the flesh of the noble 
hero who had to the last breath stood for the 
protection of the calf. 

No such moose had ever been seen in the 
woods as this one. He was a monarch above 
all the rest; probably the last of the great 
ones to escape the gun of the hunter. The 
most vicious man would have found more 
delight in having him run free, to feel that 
indeed there was still a king in the mountains, 
than to see him lying a dead mass, his antlers, 
so mighty, never to be lifted again. 

We were glad when we heard the wagon 
rumbling in the distance and knew that we 
were soon to leave the spot where such murder 
had been committed. 


[ 264 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 

THE CUBS IN OUR CITY HOME 

E verything went smoothly with the 
cubs until we reached our home in 
Boston. The railroad and custom 
officials did all they could to help us in their 
transportation. The expressman took a de- 
light in playing with them and feeding them 
along the journey. There were only two 
slight accidents from the time we put them in 
a big box and placed them on the wagon to go 
over the rough tote road until they arrived 
at our home. 

The box was just large enough to hold two 
cubs without crowding either one. Slats 
were nailed over the top with sufficient 
space between each one to give a free circula- 
tion of air and also to give an opportunity to 
feed the cubs. 

Ross, the teamster, who came to take us 
out of the woods, thought the box would make 
a comfortable seat on which he could sit as 
[ 265 ] 


NED B REPVS TER^ S 


he drove over the rough road. He failed to 
take into account the wide spaces between the 
slats. 

One part of the road was very steep and 
dangerous, — that which led down from the 
top of a high mountain to the river bed of 
the Big Dungarvin. In places the descent 
was so rapid that it seemed as though the 
wagon would tumble end over end on the 
horses. Great rocks were in the way, tipping 
the wagon from side to side. Both hind wheels 
were locked, and, in places, logs were chained 
to the wagon to hold it back. 

We walked behind to rush to the assistance 
of the driver, if he should suddenly be thrown 
from his box or crushed under his load. 

In one of the roughest and steepest places, 
we were startled by a sharp, piercing yell, and 
saw the driver jump from the box to the back 
of one of his horses. 

A cub had become nervous over the severe 
treatment he was receiving and, reaching his 
paw through a crack between the slats, had 
taken Ross by the seat of his trousers. 

The horses became frightened over the excite- 
ment and started to run down the dangerous 
grade. The wagon hit a huge boulder and 
[ 266 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


rolled over on its side, throwing the box with 
the cubs into the brush. Only the quick 
work of Mose, who ran ahead of the horses 
and seized them by their bridles, saved us 
from a very serious situation. 

“You’re a great driver,” exclaimed Mose, 
as he brought the frightened horses to a stop. 
“Trying to kill yourself and the horses, too V 

“Blasted things !” replied Ross, as he 
looked back at the bears. “Wish they had 
gone all the way down to the Big Dungarvin.” 

“Might have taken your trousers with 
them,” laughed dad. 

Then we all broke into a roar of laughter as 
we saw that the cubs had taken out the seat 
of Ross’ trousers as neatly as though it had 
been cut with scissors. 

“A good job of mending for your wife, 
when you get home,” shouted Mose, who was 
lying on the ground laughing over the situation. 

Ross was half angry, and yet he saw how 
ludicrous it was, and, knowing that it was 
best for his own comfort to take the accident as 
a joke, he proceeded to laugh with us, as we 
tipped the wagon back and set the box in its 
place. Ross, however, was very careful not 
to sit on the box again, and begged us never to 
[ 267 ] 


NED BREWS T E S 


mention the experience to the men in the 
settlement. 

The other accident was at McAdam Junc- 
tion, the railroad station where all express 
from Canada to the United States has to be 
changed. 

The cubs were taken from the express car 
and placed on the platform of the station. 
It was only a few minutes before a great 
crowd of people gathered about the cubs, 
giving them peanuts, candy, and other things 
to eat. The expressman warned them again 
and again not to go too near their claws, and 
dad stood by the box keeping all children 
away. 

One man, who gave the impression that there 
was nothing more in this world for him to 
know, walked to the cage and began to stroke 
the paw of Donner. 

“He is not a very safe animal to play with 
just now, as he is nervous,” suggested dad. 

“Oh, I know about cubs,” he replied with 
a know-all air. “They’re all right, if handled 
as they ought to be.” 

Just then Donner ’s paw shot out through 
the crack and seized the man’s coat sleeve with 
his sharp claws. 


[ 268 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


“ Careful now, cubbie,” said the distinguished 
gentleman, at the same time reaching down 
his other hand to stroke Donner’s nose. The 
minute his hand came near the box, Donner 
snapped his finger, driving a tusk through to 
the bone and sending his claws into the hand 
which he held with the other paw. 

Dad came to the rescue, giving Donner a 
sharp rap with a stick. The cub jumped back, 
ripping the man’s coat sleeve and leaving 
some long, bloody scratches on his hands. 

The boys about the station thought it a 
great joke, and shouted and laughed as the 
man walked back into the train, wiser than he 
had been a few minutes before. 

When we reached our home in Boston, 
everything was in readiness for the cubs. 
Dad had written ahead, instructing a carpen- 
ter to build a pen and to inclose a yard with 
high boards, over which the bears could not 
climb. 

The day of our arrival was the worst in our 
whole experience with these animals. The 
news had been spread abroad that we were 
to come with two bears from the big woods of 
New Brunswick. Though a large number of 
bears had just been placed in the new city zoo, 
[ 269 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


these were not half the attraction to the boys 
that our two cubs were. The bears in the zoo 
had been in captivity for many years and were 
tame, but ours were straight from the forest. 
They were real wild bears. Then the news had 
been spread by all the daily papers of the fight 
dad and I had with the mother of these cubs 
and the narrow escape we had with our lives. 

When the expressman drove to our door 
with the cage, boys seemed to spring up out of 
the ground ; they poured down upon us from 
every street. Excited youngsters were run- 
ning from every direction, crowding about the 
wagon, climbing on the fences and up the 
trees to catch a glimpse of the new arrivals. 
A policeman had to be called to our aid before 
we could make an opening through which the 
bears could be taken to their den. 

The cubs, through the excitement, became 
frantic. By nature, being very sensitive to the 
slightest noise, accustomed to an environ- 
ment where they heard only the sighing of the 
wind through the trees or an occasional foot- 
fall of some passing animal, they had suddenly 
been put down amid a din of sounds, which 
irritated their nerves and made them wild 
with fright. 


[m] 


BEAR HUNT 


It was all we could do to take them from the 
box, and when they were placed in their large 
den, they rushed wildly from side to side, 
climbing the walls, clawing the wire covering, 
and exerting every effort to escape. The 
noise outside increased, as the crowd of chil- 
dren continued to grow larger, and the shouts 
of curious boys rose in fuller volume, as one 
boy shouted to another the news of the 
coming of the bears. The boys grew bolder, 
closing in more and more, until one climbed 
upon the roof of the den. 

‘‘You can see them through the wire,” 
he shouted. 

In a minute, standing room on the roof 
was at a high premium. Boys were pulling 
at one another, trying to drag each other 
down to gain a small space where they could 
see the maddened animals. 

Then the cubs, seeing they were being taken 
by an innumerable host, began to howl. 
Blitzen sat down in one corner, opened her 
mouth, and gave a shriek that could easily have 
been heard for several blocks. Donner joined 
in the chorus, which added greatly to the 
delight of the crowd. In an hour the whole 
community was in an uproar, and dad was 
[% 1 \] 


NED BREWS T ER’ S 


compelled to telephone for a squad of police 
before we could clear the yard and restore 
peace to the neighborhood. 

We kept a special policeman on guard the 
rest of the day, while dad and I went into the 
den with a supply of nuts and molasses 
to quiet the bears and save the frightened 
creatures from nervous prostration. It was 
after ten o’clock at night before they lay down 
to sleep in the bed of straw we had provided 
for them and we could leave them, feeling 
that all was safe. 

The carpenters had placed a stepladder 
under the kitchen window, which looked 
out on their yard. None of us had noticed it, 
not even the maid. When she came down to 
her work the next morning, as usual, she 
lifted the windows to let in the fresh air. 
Donner, the more active of the two cubs, 
soon caught the scent of the cooking food. 

Without a sound he crept up the ladder, 
stood on his hind feet until his front paws 
could reach the window sill, and then with 
one spring was in the kitchen. 

We were awakened by the shrieks of a 
frightened maid, who ran upstairs and shouted 
to the extent of her lung capacity. She was 
[ 272 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


in the wildest hysterics. From all the infor- 
mation we could gather we concluded the 
house must be on fire, and we were about to 
rush to the telephone to call the fire depart- 
ment when we heard the crash of china plates 
on the floor. 

^‘The bear !” shrieked the maid, whose 
gray matter seemed to be set in motion by the 
noise of breaking crockery. 

‘‘In the kitchen !” she screamed again, as 
though her first information had not been 
sufficient. 

Before we could reach the lower floor, half 
the dishes were already tumbled from the 
shelves, and the bear was sitting in the 
flour barrel, apparently so excited by the 
abundance of food that he was pawing every- 
thing from barrels and boxes and mixing it 
all, without regard to taste or proportions. 
Dad seized the chain about the bear’s neck 
and gave it a desperate pull, forgetting that the 
cub would hold to the barrel. The pull re- 
sulted in flour, bear, and all tumbling on the 
floor and mixing with scattered cereals, 
crackers, cakes, and pies. 

Just then the second cub, Blitzen, jumped 
in the window, made a wild rush for the pantry, 
[ 273 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


and, before I could catch her chain, had added 
more to the chaos. The little fellows were 
beside themselves. Never before had they 
been where the smells were so numerous 
or so savory. They had no idea of leaving 
the place, and fought savagely before we could 
dislodge them and pull them back to their 
cage. 

Mose had declared it the very height of 
folly to take bears to the city. 

“I have tried more than once to keep them 
on my farm, but the only place for a bear 
is in the woods. They howl so at night that 
they’ll keep the neighbors awake for a mile 
around. Then they’re always full of mischief. 
One day my wife heard a pig squealing, as 
though in great pain. Rushing from the 
house, she saw our pet bear had broken away, 
climbed into the pen, captured a pig, and was 
walking away with it in his arms.” 

Mose was constantly using these arguments 
to persuade us not to take the bears to our 
city home, but dad and I both thought we 
could overcome the dangers suggested by 
Mose and make of them just as good pets 
as they had been in the woods. 

These experiences of the past two days 
[ 274 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


almost persuaded us that Mose was right, 
but for the next three weeks everything went 
smoothly, and we began to congratulate our- 
selves that we were to have two fine pets. 
The public was shut out of the yard, and the 
cubs adjusted themselves to their new life. 
My little three-year-old cousin, Bobby, came 
every day to play with the cubs, and Blitzen 
became especially attached to him. 

Donner resented the touch of children, but 
Blitzen was as devoted to his little companion 
as any dog to his master. Indeed, the de- 
votion became a source of extreme jealousy 
between Bobby’s dog, Pedro, and the bear. 
Pedro had watched over Bobby since he first 
began to crawl over the floor, seeming to feel 
that his special mission about the house was 
to keep a faithful guard over the boy. Where- 
ever Bobby went, Pedro followed. If the 
maid took him into a house, the dog would lie 
before the door and wait until they came 
out again. Nothing could have enticed him 
away until his companion was ready to start. 
Now to see Bobby sharing his affections with 
another animal broke Pedro’s heart. For 
days he would lie about in a sullen mood, as 
though mourning over this division of affection. 
[ 275 ] 


NED B REIVS TER^ S 


Whenever he passed Blitzen, he would show 
his teeth, snap and snarl, and otherwise display 
his jealousy. Blitzen could not understand 
the treatment and tried to make friends, but, 
finding it useless, became a sworn enemy to 
the dog. 

The enmity finally ripened into a rough- 
and-tumble fight. One of Blitzen’s favorite 
pastimes was in wheeling Bobby about the 
lawn in his baby carriage. Occasionally the 
awkwardness of the bear tipped the boy out 
backwards, but with some supervision and much 
cautioning, he was able to give his little friend 
many hours of genuine pleasure. But the 
sight was too aggravating for the jealous eyes 
of Pedro. One day, when Blitzen was push- 
ing the carriage up a hill, and his back was 
turned, the dog made a sudden dash, seized 
the bear by the back of the neck, jerked him 
to the ground, and was in a fair way to make 
short work of his rival’s life. It was only 
quick work and a few sharp blows of a cane 
that saved the furry nurse girl from some 
bloody wounds. 

After this experience, we kept the bears 
and the dog apart, and everything moved 
along without a disagreeable incident. Even 
[ 276 ] 





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BEAR HUN T 


the maid lost her fear of the cubs and threw 
them dainties to eat from the kitchen 
window, while we spent much time teaching 
them tricks and enjoying their company. 

One thing which we had suspected while we 
were in the woods, which we learned positively 
as we watched the cubs about our home, was 
that they both had very irritable tempera- 
ments, Donner more than his sister, although 
Blitzen was easily stirred to anger. So long 
as their ways moved along smoothly, with 
only dad or myself to care for them, they 
seldom showed any bad disposition, but the 
minute they were treated harshly or strangers 
tried to feed them, they became ugly and 
would snap and bite. 

They took a special dislike to one of the 
men who worked about our garden and 
tended our furnace. He always acted on 
the theory that as they were bears, they ought 
to be treated as savage beasts. Each time he 
approached them, he would carry a big stick 
in his hand, and often used it to show his 
authority. As a result, both bears came to 
have a decided dislike for him, and they never 
lost an opportunity to slap him with their 
sharp claws or snap him with their big teeth. 

[277] 


NED BREPVS TER^S 


At one time, dad and I were compelled to 
be away from home over night. This man 
was left in charge of the cubs. When feeding 
time came, he opened the door of their den 
and walked inside, having both hands full of 
food. He left the big stick outside of the 
door, thinking that the bears would be so eager 
for the food that they would cause no trouble. 

Just as he closed the door, the cubs made 
a savage rush at him. They evidently saw 
that their chance had come. Donner began 
to strike with his sharp claws, ripping the 
man’s trousers and scratching his feet. Blitzen 
sneaked behind him and caught his coat tail. 
The man became nervous, dropped both 
dishes of food, and began to kick and shout, ’ 
which only served to increase the excitement 
of the bears. They ran about the cage, 
striking and snorting, the man dodging and 
jumping to escape their paws. Donner ran 
between his legs, striking with such force that 
he nearly knocked the man to the floor. 
Blitzen sprang on the side of the cage and 
then gave a long jump, landing squarely 
on the man’s back, and leaving a long rip 
down the back of his coat, as she sprang away 
to the opposite side of the cage. 

[ 278 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


The maid heard the noise, and, running 
out of the kitchen to see what the trouble was, 
saw the danger, opened the door, and gave the 
man the club, which he wielded vigorously, 
driving the cubs to one corner of the cage. 

There was never a time after this experience 
when he could go near them. Even the sight 
of him would make them nervous, cause their 
hair to bristle, and show signs of fight. 

Both Donner and Blitzen had tricks which 
greatly amused us. 

Donner was especially fond of climbing a 
stepladder. Possibly it had associations with 
that first morning, when he climbed into the 
kitchen. We would place a high ladder in 
the center of the yard, and Donner would 
walk to the very top, using his hind feet, as a 
man would climb, holding on to the rounds 
by his front paws. Then he would sit on the 
top of the ladder and look about with a very 
wise expression on his face. 

Sometimes Blitzen would start after him, to 
try and drive him from his exalted position, 
but she could never learn the art of climbing a 
ladder. Occasionally she would swing on 
the under side of the rounds, and, using her 
four feet, would work her way to the top, 
[ 279 ] 


NED B REIVS T E S 


but more often she would crawl in and out 
between the rounds until she reached her 
brother. 

But Blitzen had a decided advantage over 
her brother in another way. The laundry 
window, with two blinds swinging back and 
fastening on each side, was near the ground 
and looked out on the cubs’ yard. 

This window was directly under the kitchen 
window, out of which the maid would throw 
pieces of cheese to the bears. One day she 
held an inviting morsel before Blitzen, who 
stood looking at it for a minute, then ran up 
the blind. The bear’s weight pulled the blind 
from its fastenings, and it swung back and 
forth while she tried to keep her balance. 

The more she tried to steady herself, the 
quicker seemed to be the motion of the blind. 
Once she entirely lost her balance and tumbled 
to the ground. But she scampered again to 
the top, seated herself on the end of the 
swinging blind, and, after a few more un- 
steady movements, balanced herself perfectly 
and sat there with the ease of a professional 
tight-rope walker, reaching to the kitchen 
window and taking the cheese with great 
delight. 


[ 280 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


This, however, was more than the greedy 
disposition of Donner could endure. He 
wanted cheese, also, and without any hesita- 
tion ran up the other blind, which flew open 
and hurled him to the ground. 

He ran up again with similar results. Then 
thinking Blitzen had chosen an easier one to 
climb, he started up the one on which she sat, 
throwing her from her comfortable seat and 
making her so angry that there was a vicious 
fight, which lasted for several minutes. 

This scene was repeated for days, until 
Donner seemed to realize that it was im- 
possible for him to sit on the end of a swinging 
blind, even though a tempting piece of cheese 
was dangling above his head. But he was 
determined that if he could not enjoy this 
dainty, neither should his sister. He would 
wait until she climbed to the top and was 
about to take a piece of cheese from the 
fingers of the maid, when he would strike 
the blind with his paw, throwing Blitzen to 
the ground. 

About two o’clock one morning I was 
awakened from a deep sleep by the most 
bloodcurdling sound I had ever heard. I 
thought a woman was being strangled to 
[281 ] 


ED BREIVS TER^S 


death and rushed to the window to discover 
who was in the hands of a ruflSan. Our 
neighbors in their night clothes were at the 
windows, and voices in the wildest excitement 
were coming from several apartments. Two 
men, who were on the way home at this 
late hour, ran down the street to offer assist- 
ance. 

The sound rent the air again, and then I 
knew it came from my bears. I rushed 
downstairs in my pajamas, made a mad dash 
for the cage, and tried to stop them. I lighted 
a candle, and for a minute they stood gazing 
at the flame; then they threw their heads 
into the air, opened wide their mouths, and 
gave another scream worse than any they 
had given before. 

I entered the cage and seized them by the 
chains, dragged them into the yard, and started 
for the cellar. 

The cubs became frightened by the light 
and were thrown into a panic. They began 
to lunge and tumble. One darted between 
my legs, nearly throwing me to the ground, 
while the other ran around me, binding me 
with the chain. In a minute I was a prisoner, 
entangled in the chains, being pulled and 
[ 282 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


hauled by the frantic bears. Every plunge 
was accompanied by deafening screams. 

Finally I succeeded in freeing myself, 
dragged the cubs into the cellar, fastened the 
door, closed the shutters, breathed a sigh of 
relief, and returned to bed, wondering who 
would ring our doorbell first the next morning 
— the board of health or the police. 

I had scarcely dropped asleep again, how- 
ever, when I heard another commotion. I 
had placed the cubs in the cellar with the 
furnace. They had climbed upon it and were 
knocking down every pipe. It seemed as 
though they were tearing down the house. 
Each pipe led to a register, and the sound of 
tumbling metal, with chains dragging over the 
furnace, came through every room. I rushed 
downstairs again to see what the trouble 
was and found everything in chaos. The 
furnace looked as though it had been struck 
by dynamite. Donner had discovered a ray 
of light through a register overhead and was 
trying to push his way through and spring 
to liberty. 

My pride was dashed in smaller pieces 
than the china the bear had thrown on the 
floor. All of my theories about keeping a 
[ 283 ] 


NED BREIVS TER^ S 


bear in a city were shattered. To make 
matters worse, I heard dad coming down- 
stairs. He had a quick step which I knew 
meant something unusual. 

“To-morrow morning those beasts go to the 
zoo,” he declared, as he appeared at the head 
of the cellar stairs. 

I knew this was what would have to be done 
with my pets, but dad’s sharp decision fell 
upon me like a blow. If he had just let the 
matter work itself out naturally, I think I 
would have reached the same conclusion 
next morning ; but now, in spite of my troubles 
with the cubs, it was impossible for me to 
think of parting with them. 

I sat with them the remainder of the night. 
Blitzen was in one dark corner of the cellar, 
where I could just see her eyes glistening 
in the gaslight. Donner was seated on the 
top of the furnace, or all that was left of it, 
looking down upon me in the most inquisitive 
way, wondering if I was to give him a whipping. 
We all realized the seriousness of the situa- 
tion ; the cubs fearing punishment, my heart 
heavy over the thought that it was our last 
night together. 

When I went to the breakfast table, dad’s 
[ 284 ] 


BEAR HUNT 


face was very sober. There was scarcely a 
word uttered the entire meal. When dad 
rose and walked to the telephone, I knew the 
end had come. He called up the manager 
of the zoo. 

‘‘You’ll send over for them this morning ?” 
was the last of a short conversation, and dad 
rang oflf. 

Thus ended our relations with Donner and 
Blitzen, though the memories of those happy 
days when we were all up in the big woods 
will last forever. 

Perhaps, when we go after those caribou 
next year, as we have promised Mose, I 
shall be able to secure some other pets, though 
none can ever give us more enjoyment. 


[ 285 ] 



“ Introduces the delights of hunting with a camera* 


NED BREWSTER’S 
YEAR IN THE BIG WOODS 


By CHAUNCEY J. HAWKINS 

{Illustrated from photographs. $1.20 net 


The tang of the sharp winter air, the flavor of the woods and 
the companionship of the denizens of the forest are enjoyed in 
a rare way by the reader. . . Mr. Hawkins knows the forests 
and its habitants through and through. — Boston Herald. 

The story is told with grace and right feeling. . . The stories 
of Single Hoof the deer and Lonely Heart the partridge are 
idyls in themselves. . . Altogether this volume of boy, bird and 
animal lore is well worth reading. — Chicago Post. 

By the same ardhor 

NED BREWSTER’S BEAR HUNT 

Illustrated from photographs. $1.20 net. 

Ned Brewster has followed his year spent in the New 
Brunswick woods with a season in the “ bear ” country. Ac- 
companied by his father and two guides, he goes hunting with 
a camera. His efforts to “snapshot” Bruin at home are not 
crowned with easy success, and his encounters with the animals 
are thrilling enough. He stalks other creatures for pictures, as 
well, and makes a new collection of pets for the camp. 

Every boy will envy him his summer and long for similar 
experiences. 


LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., Publishers 
34 Beacon Street, Boston 


The ^^Wellworth College'’' Series 


THE FOURTH DOWN 


By LESLIE W. QUIRK 
Author of “ Baby Elton, Quarterback,” etc. 
Illustrated by Henry S. Watson. 8vo. $1.20 net. 


A football story filled with action and exciting situations. — 
Pittsburgh Chronicle- Telegraph. 

A spirited account of freshman life at Wellworth College and 
lust leads on from one game to another, each described with a 
loving particularity boys will rejoice in. — Bookman^ New York. 

Story of a freshman in a Middle West college football team, 
whose lesson in sacrificing individual ambition to “team work” 
is an important part of his year’s varied experiences. A clean, 
spirited story, crowded with realistic scenes in freshman life. 
— American Library Association Booklet. 

By the same author 

THE FRESHMAN EIGHT 

Illustrated by Henry S. Watson. 8vo. $1.20 net. 


The second volume of the Wellworth College series is a strong 
story of character, school life and athletics, and deals with the 
same hvely group of freshmen who appeared in “ The Fourth 
Down.” The sport which occupies the chief energies of the 
boys is rowing, in which they meet serious obstacles before their 
efforts culminate in a race at the Poughkeepsie Regatta. Minor 
sports include a unique baseball game, a foot race, a wrestling 
tournament, a boxing bout, etc., all of which add to the rapid 
action and humor of the story. 


LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., Publishers 
34 Beacon Street, Boston 


The Donald Kirk** Series 


DONALD KIRK 

THE MORNING RECORD COPY-BOY 

By EDWARD MOTT WOOLLEY 

Illustrated by George Varian. $1.20 net 

The young reader while reading an absorbing tale will learn 
something of the continual stress under which newspaper work 
is conducted. — Chicago Post. 

The author knows the interior of a newspaper office well and 
describes events faithfully. . . We are glad to commend the 
book highly . — Prcmidence Journal. 

An interesting and accurate enough account of life in the 
office of a metropolitan newspaper. . . A rattling good story of 
the sort boys revel in . — Philadelphia Press. 


By the same author 

DONALD KIRK 

THE MORNING RECORD CORRESPONDENT 

Illustrated by George Varian. $1.20 net 


This second volume in the “Donald Kirk” Series shows the 
hero’s life at Larch wood Academy, a preparatory school on the 
Hudson, where he acts as school correspondent to the “ Morning 
Record. ” Here he does reporting on his own responsibility, and 
when he is ignominiously scooped, he tries to retrieve himself by 
some daring ventures to get news. His year’s experiences help 
to sharpen his wits, strengthen his self-reliance and broaden his 
sympathies, and his friends and acquaintances wiU find him a 
fine, manly youth, well worth reading about. 


LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., Publishers 
34 Beacon Street, Boston 








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